


On the Wings of a Dove

by BoredRavenvlaw620



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: An attempt at a mystery, Banter, F/M, HEA, It happened 'Once upon a time.", Not Epilogue Compliant, Some Angst For Good Measure, reformed Draco, shameless fluffiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 23:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredRavenvlaw620/pseuds/BoredRavenvlaw620
Summary: The war changed Draco Malfoy. Doesn't he deserve a happily ever after?Inspired by the Fairy tale, "The Gypsy Queen"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my alpha/beta, Mcal. You are an amazing and uplifting human. Thank you for being a friend and for just being you!
> 
> Also a massive thanks to TheMourningMadam for putting this fest together. You are a paragon of creativity. Thank you for all the work you put in to make this a fun and successful fest.

Defection from a cause is not an immediate process. The seeds of doubt are sown, often in the soil of an infertile mind, and germinate much against the odds. They are nurtured and cultivated by circumstance. Perhaps when a sixteen year old boy is ordered to murder an elderly, but powerful wizard; or when he and his family are tortured for his failure to commit said murder.

The seed ruptures, sending roots and shoots of change further into the mind. As innocent victims meet their violent ends at the dining table where many a family meal was shared and classmates are brutalized in the very spot you once opened your Christmas gifts, the shoot strains to burst forth and find vibrant life in the light.

The most powerful catalyst often comes in the most dire of tragedies.  
…  
Harry Potter was dead. Draco watched, frozen, as The Dark Lord waxed poetic about the future of the wizarding world beneath his _benevolent_ rule. The scene played out in slow motion before his eyes: Longbottom limping forward, then the sorting hat ablaze over his head, the flash of a sword as that abominable snake met its end, but most shockingly--Harry Potter leaping to his feet and scarpering for cover while taunting his mortal enemy with an elementary hex.

Voldemort roared in anger, his red eyes flashed as he whipped his head toward Narcissa Malfoy. Draco watched on in horror as Voldemort’s inhuman face contorted in rage and the curse formed on his shriveled lips. The distinctive wand, the one Draco had relieved his former Headmaster of, slashed menacingly through the air as the tell-tale green left its tip. The curse rocketed toward Naricssa only to be stopped by… Lucius Malfoy.

This was the moment - his father falling limp and lifeless at his mother's feet - that the seed of doubt broke free from the soil of Draco’s mind, the roots grasping deeply to renewed resolve within as the shoots flourished in the light of changed allegiance.

All around the courtyard, Death Eaters, Order members, and students began to battle in earnest. Draco surged forward to his mother, pulling her behind him as he fended the attacks of his former brethren. Snatching a flying wand from the air, Draco shoved it into his mother’s hands and though distraught, she soon shook him off and joined in his efforts.

Draco burst through the throngs of people, pushing aside younger students; his mother’s wand steady in his hand as he cast Protego after Protego and Stupefy after Stupefy. The Death Eaters that remained loyal targeted him, but to no avail. His intent to turn against the dark was made clear by his actions, and he found himself back to back with Neville Longbottom as they carved a path into the thick of the action.

The Great Hall shook and reverberated as spells collided and slammed into walls and the ceiling. Chaos reigned as he launched spells into the fray, sending Death Eaters careening off their feet. He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his deranged aunt fell to Molly Weasley’s wand. A trio of order fighters was frustrating Voldemort until with a wide sweeping gesture he knocked them off their feet. Finally, Harry Potter stepped forward.

Draco listened along with the rest of the hall, as Potter explained how he and Dumbledor discovered Voldemort’s secret and rendered him mortal once more, the fatal flaw in his plan, and lastly beseech him to repent one last time. _Ruddy optimistic Gryffindors._ Draco cringed as simultaneous spells were cast--Potter using a spell they mastered in second year--and the blinding streams connected. Then, in an almost anticlimactic finish, Potter’s spell connected and Voldemort fell in a heap on the floor.

After the initial excitement died down, the difficult work began. The injured were triaged and the dead gathered. Draco settled his mother in a far corner, a blanket wrapped snugly around her shoulders as he assisted the efforts.

Returning to the grounds, Draco gingerly stepped through the debris, his eyes trained on the ground for signs of life… or for bodies. A tuft of blond hair blew from behind a pile of castle stones. Draco approached slowly and was met with the lifeless eyes of a Gryffindor he vaguely remembered. He tried to reach for the name as someone spoke at his back, “Creevy, Colin Creevy.”

Draco’s gaze was fixed on the young boy as the newcomer stepped up beside him. “He was always taking pictures of everyone,” Longbottom, Draco now realized, “He was under age, he must have snuck back in.” he sighed as he pulled out his wand as if to levitate the body. Draco put his hand on Neville’s shoulder to stop him, then knelt down to pick up Collin’s limp body. Once situated in his arms, Neville gave him an approving nod and set off to look for others.

The last body Draco retrieved was that of his father. Though a stern parent and misguided in his allegiance to Voldemort, he loved his father. Despite appearances to those apart from their family, Lucuis was a devoted husband and father and only desired for their best circumstance. It became quickly clear with The Dark Lord’s return that his obligation would lead his family to ruin, however the the vile Dark Mark on Lucius’s forearm was as good as a shackle.

Lucius’s lank silver hair fell haphazardly around his head as Draco settled his lifeless body at the far end of the row. Narcissa rushed over and began to arrange Lucius’s hair and clothing, silent tears streaming from her eyes as she gave over to her grief. Draco knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder in support. Draco glanced around at the rows of injured, and the pockets of mourners. It was then that, much by accident, his eyes met those of Hermione Granger.

Her face was dirty and her eyes were red from crying, Draco was sure both tears of joy and sadness, but she held tight to Weasley as he wept for his fallen sibling. Granger held his gaze for a moment before glancing at his mother. When her eyes met Draco’s again it was to mouth, “I’m sorry.” Draco nodded once, his expression solemn, and answered with a silent, “Me too.”.

There in the crumbing remains of the Great Hall, just as new dawn rose over the Scottish Highlands, a new dawn emerged for Wizarding Britain. The light had won and Draco was ready to embrace it and the new future it promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_ Daily Prophet, May 8, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter _

_ Newly appointed Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt calls for volunteers to head up restoration efforts in Diagon Alley and at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_ After the extensive damage sustained during the now infamous Tom Riddle’s campaigns, the once vibrant alley and the premier educational institute are in desperate need of wands and funds to see them restored. _

_ With the dust only just settling after the battle, many families grieving heavy losses, and the wealthiest families of our community on the wrong side of the battle, the question remains as to who will emerge as beacon of healing and change in these times of transition. _

_ I, Rita Skeeter, pledge to keep you abreast of this and other scintillating developments as they happen. _

_ Daily Prophet, May 15, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter  _

_ Draco Malfoy, Son of famed and now deceased Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, was tried yesterday before the Wizengammot.  _

_ The young heir and devilishly handsome young wizard sat boldly in the courtroom and proclaimed himself culpable for his actions during the war. Gasps were heard round the courtroom as he told of his willingness to follow He Who Must Not be Named’s schemes in order to save his mother from certain demise. It was not without great emotion that this reporter watched on as he spoke of his steadfast devotion to his family’s safety. _

_ In a surprising show of unity, Harry Potter, the Boy WHo Lived and the Hero of the Wizarding World, spoke passionately about his belief that the young Malfoy be given a second chance to right his wrongs. _

_ Notably absent from the proceedings was one Hermione Granger, who was reported to be traveling (a bold move in these trying times, if you ask this reporter). In her stead, Mr. Potter read a letter she supposedly penned in Mr. Malfoy’s defense. _

_ When all testimony had been heard it was the ultimate decision of the Wizengamot to sentence Mr. Malfoy to a period of probation. Conditions of which include mandatory counseling and a return to Hogwarts for completion of N.E.W.T.S. _

_ I, for one, am anxious to see how this delicious young man grows into the formidable wizard he’s destined to be. _

_ _

_ Daily Prophet, May 17, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter _

_ In a press conference yesterday, just one day after his stunning trial, young Draco Malfoy pledged to commit not only his time, but his galleons to the restoration efforts in Diagon alley and at Hogwarts. _

_ Mr. Malfoy spoke eloquently, the light glinting off his platinum hair and determination sparkling in his hypnotic eyes. He called to action not only his peers, but the whole of the wizarding world,  _ “It is now my duty as head of the Malfoy family to set an example. This family has stood as a pillar in this community for centuries. It is with great sorrow that I admit my part in weakening these foundations, but it is with great resolve that I proclaim my intention to rebuild our world stronger, and more unified than ever before. We are all, Pureblood, Half-blood, Muggleborn - all of us - gifted with magic. As such it is more important than ever that we come together to not only repair the physical damage, but the emotional wounds as well. It is only through hard work and transparency that our world can begin to mend and true peace can take root.”

_ Mr. Malfoy was seen later that same day leading a group of volunteers in Diagon Alley. It seems to this reporter that Mr. Malfoy is sincere in his efforts and is easily positioning himself as one of the most sought after wizards in Britain. _

  
  


_ Daily Prophet, June 6, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter _

_ Draco Malfoy celebrated his eighteenth birthday in special fashion yesterday. He, and his friends headed up an effort at Hogwarts to restore their beloved Quidditch pitch.  _

_ This reporter was privileged to bear witness to the combined efforts of not only Mr. Malfoy, but his former rivals and now allies, Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley. While it was clear there is still a cool acceptance of one another, the goals and stands were repaired. _

_ Mr. Malfoy presented the school with a collection of new brooms, Quidditch balls and protective gear, enough for each house team. When asked his opinion of Mr. Malfoy’s philanthropic endeavors, Mr. Weasley was less than eloquent, “He’s all right… I guess.” But Mr. Potter was much more well-spoken and stated, “It’s unfortunate that as children we were put into direct opposition to each other through the manipulation of adults in our lives, but I did not survive the killing curse twice to hold onto old grudges.” _

_ Even if Mr. Potter is letting go of old rivalries, he is still open to some healthy competition. Before the group left for the day they tested the new equipment in a rousing and impromptu game of Quidditch. _

  
  


_ Daily Prophet, July 24, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter _

_ The elusive Hermione Granger was seen yesterday on the grounds of Hogwarts. Although this reporter was rebuffed at each attempt to get a statement, Ms. Granger was seen working closely with hunky hopeful herbologist, Neville Longbottom, to repair greenhouses and repot plants.  _

_ She was later seen briefly conversing with one Draco Malfoy as he organized student and community volunteers assisting in the Great Hall. It did not go without notice that Ms. Granger’s face was alight with fascination at Mr. Malfoy’s impressive display of magical prowess as he aided Professor Filius Flitwick in recharming the famous ceiling of the Hall. _

_ I was denied entrance to the library, where Ms. Granger focused to remainder of her efforts. _

_ Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, who both recently entered the Auror Academy, were absent from yesterday’s proceedings. Neither were available to comment by owl, regarding Ms. Granger’s mysterious disappearance after the final battle as well as rumours of her short-lived relationship with the youngest Weasley son. _

_ Did Ms. Granger abandon the wizarding world and her friends in this great time of need? Did she break the heart of the delightful Ronald Weasley? Who will she get her clutches into next? This reporter is committed to finding out the truth. _

  
  


_ Daily Prophet, September 2, 1998 _

_ By: Rita Skeeter _

_ The Hogwarts Express departed for a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday. Most notable among the famous train’s occupants were that of Mr. Draco Malfoy, returning to school as a condition of his probation, and Ms. Hermione Granger. _

_ Mr. Malfoy was seen on the platform assisting younger students with their trunks and greeting former classmates, from all houses as they entered. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, was present to see him off.  _

_ Ms. Granger was polite if distant with others as she remained buffeted by the Weasley family and one Mr. Harry Potter. No romantic overtures occured between Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, but one Ms. Ginevra Weasley was positively outrageous in her display of affection for Mr. Potter before being reluctantly separated to board the train. _

_ Although access is restricted to students while at Hogwarts this reporter will be diligent in uncovering the activities of the most watched witches and wizards in Britain. _

...

Pansy gently folded her copy of the Prophet and rested it in her lap beneath the table; her face a placid mask as she clenched her hand around the ridiculous periodical. It had been one article after another like this since the battle.

She took a quiet, but deep breath to center and resumed eating.

“... so I said to her, ‘That’s not my wand, but if you keep your hand there, you’ll certainly see some magic!’” Pansy eyed Theo Not distastefully as he roared with laughter at his quip, her  _ friends  _ encouraging him. She found his new behavior disgusting. His father would be mortified to know what his son was getting up to after the war, but Thoros Nott was dead, and his son went back to telling his bawdy story; Draco, Blaise and Daphne laughing along. 

So many of the great heads of house had perished or been subjected to long sentences in Azkaban. Pansy’s own parents were now permanent residents of the odious prison. They were staunch, loyal supporters of the Dark Lord and refused to be cowed in their beliefs. Pansy had not been tried, having never actively participated in any Death Eater campaigns. She was, however, recommended for counseling. 

A dreamy voice drew her from her thoughts, “Theodore, I couldn’t help but overhear.” Everyone on that end of the table turned toward that batty Lovegood girl. “I’m interested in studying all kinds of magic, perhaps we could meet later and discuss it?”

Theo choked out a harsh breath, but recovered as he wiped his mouth and rose from the table. That Looney witch just followed his movements with those blank orbs as he approached her and drew her to his side with an arm around her shoulders, “Why wait? I’ve got time now.” He urged her form the Great Hall and she left willingly, Theo throwing an exaggerated wink over his shoulder. 

Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed her plate away, she was nauseated at their behavior. All summer long she watched as they drifted further and further from their proud heritage as Purebloods. It was all Pansy had left. Her family’s home was repossessed by the Ministry in short order of her parent’s incarceration, and she was reduced to living in a dank Knockturn Alley flat. Did any of her former friends care? Not when they were busy extolling the virtues of  _ equality and brotherhood _ , or whatever rot it was that was spilling from Draco’s mouth.

“You know who’s looking especially fit?” Blaise leered. Pansy scoffed silently, as she watched Draco shrug, his eyes alight with mischief, “Granger.” Her nausea increased ten fold as Draco glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Granger was,  _ of course _ , nose deep in a book, her ridiculous hair, as usual, in complete disarray.

Pansy went back to tuning Draco, Blaise, and Daphne out as they discussed the finer points of the opposite sex. She was tired of talking. Her summer was spent talking, talking…  _ talking. _ The counselor she was assigned was a chatty bugger, but thank Merlin, he was an easy sell. The reformation drivel that featured in the Prophet daily was a veritable buffett of talking points that she could dish up to manipulate her way through each session, along with a healthy side pairing of stray tears topped off with a generous serving of cleavage. He signed off on her mental wellness and fitness for integration in this  _ brave new world.  _ Pansy was disgusted with herself, but the end justifies the means.

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t be opposed to a little more  _ house unity.”  _ Daphne nudged her in the ribs with a playful giggle, “What do you think, Pans, maybe one of the fine cerebral lads from Ravenclaw, or do you fancy something a bit more bold…” She tapped her lips with her forefinger, her perfectly groomed eyebrows arched in consideration, “A brash Gryffindor perhaps? Or a sweet doting Puff?” Daphne dissolved into giggles.

Pansy forced a tight smile onto her lips. “Well, as fun as that sounds, I must get to class.” 

As Pansy walked out she missed the concerned furrow of Draco’s brow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Mcal for checking me before I wreck me!  
I would love to hear from you in the Kudos or with a review. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Draco had always been a leader among his peers. In light of his actions after the war that distinction extended beyond the dungeness walls of Slytherin house and into the whole of Hogwarts. 

The castle was badly damaged during the final battle and, though the most essential areas were repaired there remained much work to be done. With the guidance and support of the Headmistress, Draco organized teams of students to assist with cleanup and reconstruction for the remainder of the castle.

“Dracooo,” Theo whined, slumping against the wall, “Are we almost finished?” 

Draco shot him a glare, annoyed at the continual complaints. “Don’t mind him, mate.” Blaise slapped him on the back as he waved his wand to levitate a pile of rubble into a bin, “He’s got a date with Lovegood.”

“Get up, Theo.” Theo groaned as he stood from the wall. “It's just this last bit, then you can shag Lovegood to your heart's content.”

Rolling his eyes at Draco, Theo flicked his wand and sent a stack of intact stones back into their proper place. “Not that it's any of your business, Draco, but Luna and I are going to the Black Lake to search for… blimplimpie dingereedoos… or something.” Theo waved off his confusion at the name, “doesn't matter, apparently they're easiest to attract while naked.” He finished with playful wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“Please, Nott my nightmares are terrifying enough without the idea of your skinny naked arse.” 

Theo leaned forward and shook said skinny arse to and fro much to the chagrin of his restoration partners.

“Good Godric! I did not need to see that!” Theo stilled, his shaggy head of brown hair peeking through his legs and Blaise and Draco glancing over their shoulders to see Hermione Granger the remains of laughter still dancing in her eyes.

Blaise was first to recover, sauntering over and slinging an arm around the diminutive witch, “I know what you mean, that is a terrible excuse for a backside.” Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement and once she got herself under control she looked at Draco, “We’re finished with the adjacent hall. Do you need any more help on this side?”

Draco looked around, a few more spells would see this hall repaired, “I think we have it under control, Granger.”

“Very well, let us know if you need any more help.” Just then Ginny Weasley popped around the corner and called Hermione away. Blaise watched the two witches walk away in their muggle denims, “Now that's what I call an  _ arse,”  _ he groaned just a bit too loudly and Ginny pulled Hermione up short, whipping her long red ponytail over her shoulder, eyebrows cocked in challenge. “That’s right. I was talking about you, Red.”

“This is the  _ Chosen Arse  _ of the  _ Chosen One,  _ sorry, Zabini.” Then she smirked pulling Hermione forward, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Draco landed a smack to the back of Blaise’s head, “Things are only beginning to settle, please don’t anger our revered hero by hitting on his girl.”

“All in good fun, besides, tell me that was not a delectable body that just flounced away.”

“Blaise! I am working hard to reform my image and myself, I will not even entertain a fleeting impure thought about Potter’s paramour.”

_ “Potter’s paramour,”  _ Theo teased in an exaggerated haughty tone.

“Not Weasley,” Blaise shook his head slowly and savored the next syllables out of his mouth, “ _ Granger.”  _

…

Blaise’s suggestion that Granger was now a romantic option vexed Draco in unexpected ways. He could admit that he had not taken a go at her in a couple of years. Additionally, she was quieter since the war, seemingly more introspective; though, Draco thought that was not unusual given all they had been through. 

She was often with Ginny Weasley, and of course an absolute fixture in the library, but the few interactions they had were civil, if not professional. It struck him that he may enjoy more friendly interaction with her, if for nothing else than to engage in intelligent debate.

Draco found his first opportunity a few weeks later on a quiet evening in the library. He’d seen her hunched over the table, books and parchments surrounding her. He ducked in the next row of shelves and moved the books aside to watch her work. 

He’d always imagined that she spent hour upon hour copying texts verbatim in order to regurgitate the knowledge at will, but what he saw intrigued him. She would read a passage in one book, only to turn immediately to no less than two others. At times she would wave and arc her wand, or draw runes in the air with her finger before making a note on the page. 

Before he realized how creepy he was watching her, she completed an essay, rolled the parchment up and pulled out a potions text. If this wasn’t a sign then he didn’t know what was.

Striding around the bookshelves and onto her aisle, he began to scan the shelves as if searching for a certain book. He noticed her stiffen from the corner of his eye, but continued his farcical mission. Finally approaching the table he made his move, “Granger...” He cleared his throat, this was harder than he thought. “Would you happen to have the copy of  _ Potions Moste Obscure?” _

Hermione simply held up the book she had open to show him the cover of the aforementioned book and then went back to reading. Draco wasn’t quite sure how to proceed if she wouldn't talk, so he sat down across from her. She glanced up momentarily and then went back to the words on the page. He heard her sigh and saw her place her finger on a line, “Do you think that interspecies hybridization of plants might alter the results or effectiveness of certain potions?”

The less than elegant noise that escaped his mouth was not his finest moment, but Granger didn’t seem to notice and continued, “Orchids for example, it's the second largest family of flowering plants, and there are thousands of species.” Her eyes focused somewhere past him, “new hybrids are created all the time, for color, hardiness, bloom proliferation--there’s even natural cross pollination that occurs. What if a species used in the original formulation of a potion was more apt to interact with the other components for the desired effect.” She made a hasty note on her parchment, “Then through the years, the plants cross pollinated with others in the species, or were purposefully cross bred for some other reason…” she trailed off again, her quill scratching across the parchment.

When she looked up and finally made solid eye contact, Draco raised his eyebrows and motioned for her to continue, now genuinely interested in her theory. She hesitated but a moment, “Then there is the consideration of subspecies…” she trailed again and began to mumble to herself as she dug in her bag for another piece of parchment.

Draco attempted to school his features into one of serious academic consideration, “Expound on  _ subspecies.” _

She stilled, nervously straightening the parchment in front of her and chewed her lip as he saw her formulate her next thought. “I’d say we would be classified as a subspecies.”

“I am no  _ under  _ species, Granger.” His tone rich with the haught of his youth, but his smirk and eyes playful.

She didn’t notice as her back was rigid and her eyes glinted with that righteous indignation he was so accustomed to. “Not under,  _ per say _ , but by the principles of Linnaean taxonomy, more distinct.”

“Make no mistake I am  _ distinct _ no matter the classification system.” 

“You’re insufferable. I’m going back to the tower,” she groaned as she began to pack her things. Draco stopped her with a gentle hand; she froze.

He tried to soften his expression, but was remarkably unsuccessful if her narrowed eyes meant anything, “I’m taking the piss, Granger, tell me about your little theories.” He waved his hand to encourage her to continue. Her curls were haphazard around her face and she slowly pushed them away as she drew in a breath.  _ Merlin he could see the lecture coming. _

“We- _ all _ people-magical or muggle, are classified as Homo sapiens. Human beings. As _ magical  _ human beings, we exist as a distinct  _ subset _ , owing to the gift of magic.” 

Draco stroked his chin in consideration, if for nothing more than to fuel her annoyance with him, “And this has to do with potions how exactly?”

“Salix reticulata for example. There are two subspecies, reticulata and gabellicarpa, but they both yield salicin.” She was in full on lecture mode now.

“Salix reticulata?”

“Net-leaved willow.” Her tone one of disbelief.

“Of course, of course, as is used in the skin regeneration potion,” he nodded, “do go on.”

She sniffed, “The primary difference is the geographic distribution, but the physical features  _ do  _ differ slightly. For instance the glabellicarpa has a less pronounced veining on the leaves.”

“And you believe that if the potioneer used one over the other the results would be altered.”

She bit her bottom lip and tugged at a stray curl, Draco felt quite smug about engaging her in conversation. “I believe they would… yes. While they are essentially the same plant, and both produce the needed anti-inflammatory agent, the cellular structure of the leaves reinforces the mechanism of action of the mermaid scales for dermal regeneration.”

They volleyed ideas about plants and potions for another half-hour; and after enduring four rounds of Madam Pince’s glares for silence, Hermione stowed her parchments and gathered her books leaving Draco to stare at the wood grain of the table as he thought of more ways to engage with the insightful and charismatic witch.

…

From her vantage in the adjacent aisle, Pansy watched with narrowed eyes as Draco deigned to speak to the disgusting mudblood.  _ How could he stand to spend so long discussing her meaningless ramblings?  _ He seemed so lost in his own head that he sauntered right past her as he stood from the table and ventured into the stacks his long fingers grazing the spines with care. 

Pansy longed for those fingers to touch her, those sparkling grey eyes to crinkle at the corners as he listened raptly to her musings. She could not stomach a moment of his interaction with the mudblood.

She strolled onto the same aisle as Draco, feigning distraction as she pulled a book from the shelf at random. She made no effort to turn the pages quietly and she was rewarded. “Pansy, I didn’t see you there.”

She sniffed. “Here I am.” Then went back to flipping the pages of the book.

In her periphery, she could see Draco shuffle on his feet and his hand rubbing the back of his neck; a sure sign of his discomfort.  _ She had known him all her life after all. _

He cleared his throat and she looked up from under her lashes, “I’m sorry I’ve been busy. How are you doing?”

“Honestly, Draco, you worry too much, if I needed you, I know where to find you.” She waved him off and turned back to the shelves.

“I’m happy to hear that, Pansy, but if you need anything… you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Don’t be silly, I’m just fine.”

Draco slipped a book from the self and nodded once before exiting the aisle. Pansy watched him walk toward the circulation desk, her expression darkening as she muttered, “You’re the one who needs help, Draco. But don’t worry… I’ll save you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you beautiful readers. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this little story. And another big thank you to Mcal for being an amazing alpha/beta and friend!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Breakfast in the Great Hall was always a quiet and reserved affair, the students slowly coming to life with innumerable cups of tea, plates piled high with the offerings of a full English, and bowls of honeyed porridge; that is until the post owls swooped in, bearing letters and packages. The feeling of anticipation was thick in the air as eyes looked to the sky for the tell tale markings of that certain owl letting students know their family was thinking about them, caring for them.

Evangeline, Narcissa’s barn owl, swooped down gently in front of Draco’s plate. She held only a letter and released it easily to Draco. She watched him calmly as he tucked the sealed parchment into his bag, but continued to stare at him, her heart shaped face one of patience. Draco plucked a rasher of bacon from the platter in the middle of the table and presented his offering to the placid avian. Evangeline gingerly accepted the treat, thusly swallowing it in one gulp. Ever the elegant bird, she gently preened at her right wing before taking off with silent and powerful flap of her wings.

Draco watched her disappear through the open window and turned back to his plate. “What do you think Granger’s got there?” Theo pointed to the Gryffindor table where Hermione Granger sat, eyes sparkling and a soft smile on her face as she read a letter, but clutched tight to her chest was a cloth sack. “She looks far too excited, it must be something extra naughty,” Theo leered, his eyebrows dancing suggestively.

Draco made a noise of derision, “Someone’s most likely sent her a book, I’m sure she’d count that as the highest form of seduction.”

“Thought a lot about seducing Gryffindor’s Princess have you?”

“I most certainly have not,” Draco defended. “In fact,  _ Theodore _ ,” Theo mimed gagging at the sound of his full name, Draco rolled his eyes, “I am not going to give you the satisfaction of continuing this conversation.” Draco stood, wrapped his cloak over his shoulders and stepped from the table.

“Draco,” Pansy reached out with a hand on his forearm to stop him, “would you like an apple before you go?” Pansy looked up at him with a strange expression in her hand she held a perfect green apple. 

“No thank you.” Draco waved distractedly as his eyes followed something, and then swept from the Hall.

…

Pansy turned on the bench, the apple still in her hand as she watched Draco follow Granger out the doors of the Great Hall. She felt a spark of rage as he surveyed the entrance hall and then with a look of triumph, turned in the direction Granger had gone. Below the table, her crimson nails bit into the flesh of the apple as he disappeared, seemingly to cavort with that filthy trash once more.

...

At first glance, he didn’t see which direction she’d gone, but as he approached the Black Lake, he found her. Her wild curls whipped about behind her as the wind picked up off the water. She was seated on a blanket, the bundle from the Great Hall tucked beside her.

Draco flicked his wand to silence his footsteps and drew closer, hiding himself behind a nearby tree. Granger gazed out across the water, her expression serene. Then she withdrew a knife from her bag. Draco stiffened at the glint of the blade in the light. She inspected the blade and waved her wand over it silently, then reaching down beside her retrieved something from the bag tucked at her side -- an orange.

She brought the fruit to her nose and sniffed deeply, her face breaking into a bright smile. Using the knife she cut into the fruit revealing, not the bright orange Draco expected, but a deep blood red. As Granger brought the slice to her lips, Draco emerged from his hiding place and plopped beside her on the blanket. “What have you got there, Granger?” 

Meeting his eyes, hers sparked with playful defiance, “It’s a  _ blood _ orange, Malfoy.” Then she took the slice between her lips at last, the bright citrus smell enveloping them both as her eyes closed, savoring the flavor.

“Not the usual fare for Hogwarts. Special delivery?”

With a roll of her eyes Granger turned her gaze back to the lake as she finished the orange slice by slice. Then she shrunk and put away her knife, vanished the rinds, and rose from the blanket; but before she retreated to the castle, turned to Draco and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Then flounced away.

Draco sat on the blanket for a few minutes longer, listening to the water of the lake lap at the shore; the smell of oranges hung heavy in the air.

...

She got another delivery a week later. Evangeline had just deposited a tin of shortbread at Draco’s table as he saw Granger collect her bag and leave the hall.

Bidding good day to his house mates he followed her to the lakeside once more. This time he didn’t hide behind a tree, he boldly sat himself on her blanket. She gave him a quick glance from the side of her eye and she shook her head as a small sniff of amusement left her nose.

Hermione repeated her steps to cut into the richly hued orange and began to eat it, slice by slice. Draco removed the tin of shortbread from his robes, making a spectacle of opening the lid and then choosing a piece. He noticed that Granger paused in her movements as he grasped the biscuit between his thumb and forefinger and brought the crumbly treat to his lips. The light sweetness burst on his tongue as the dense texture filled his mouth and he groaned in satisfaction, closing his eyes to allow the sensation to fill him. As he swallowed the bite and opened his eyes, he met Granger’s sparkling topaz gaze, one eyebrow cocked up in bemusement and the ghost of a smile on her lips. “More blood oranges, Granger?”

Her answer was a grin as she bit into another slice of orange. Draco watched her as he ate another piece of shortbread with a bit less of the theatrics. As they finished their respective treats, Granger asked, “And what special delivery do you have?”

Draco popped another piece into his mouth, chewed, swallowed and then smirked at the amused witch. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased, repeating her words from the previous week. Then, much like she’d done before, stood from the blanket and sauntered back to the castle. 

After that he caught her eye occasionally across the Great Hall and in class. He enjoyed the mild confusion in her eyes and the searching looks, trying to figure out what he was up to. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure, but confusing Granger was a harmless, if not enjoyable, pastime. 

The next delivery came and, much to Draco’s delight, Granger met him with a challenging glance as she rose from the Gryffindor table and exited the hall. Draco scooped up the tin of shortbread he’d written his mother for and followed her. 

He found himself at the lake, seated on the blanket beside Granger once more. Neither spoke as they prepared to enjoy their treats. This time however, Granger offered Draco a slice of the aromatic and visually stunning citrus. As he took the slice from her fingers he proffered the tin toward her. She smiled and gingerly lifted a biscuit, bringing it to her lips immediately. Her eyes lit with excitement as she discovered the sweet simplicity of Draco’s favorite indulgence. While Draco held in a groan of satisfaction at the richly layered and nuanced flavor of the blood orange.

The light off the lake highlighted the golden flecks in Granger’s eyes as Draco’s swirling grey irises met hers. They smiled and shared a quiet laugh before turning back to the water, the silence companionable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I thanked Mcal enough? Probably not... so... Thank you again you beautiful creature for all your help with my story.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, please consider leaving a review or a kudos. It positively makes my day when you do!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Companionable silence is all well and good, but as Draco soon found out, when you become friends with Hermione Granger, silence was a rare commodity.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?’

“I’m grinding the valerian root in case it escaped your attention.”

“You’re mauling it, more like. Here, give it to me.” She pulled the mortar and pestle toward her while glaring.

Draco’s lips pulled inward suppressing a laugh at her outrage.

She began scraping the pestel against the sides of the mortar, the root becoming a fine powder as she worked. “You see, the head of the pestle should be in contact with the side of the mortar, pounding it only scatters the ingredients.” 

Draco put his hands over hers to still her movements, “I know how to prepare the ingredients, I’m as skilled as you at potions.”

Hermione huffed. “But you were pounding instead of grinding.”

Draco dissolved into full bellied laughter, falling back onto his stool. Around the classroom eyes turned toward them. Hermione stalled in her preparations as she blushed at the attention. Slughorn shot Draco a narrow-eyed glare and cleared his throat.

“What’s so funny, Malfoy?” Hermione hissed.

Draco wiped the mirth from his eyes and recovered the stone implement. The others went back to minding their stations and his shoulders shook in silent amusement as he began to grind the roots. “If I had known being potions partners with Hermione Granger would be so entertaining I would have done it ages ago.” He mused to himself.

Hermione swatted his shoulder with the back of her hand. “What are you on about?”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to get the joke. When she simply returned his expression he leaned in, speaking quietly so only she could hear, “So which so you prefer Granger,  _ grinding  _ or  _ pounding _ ?” When he pulled back she was blushing furiously.

“Just prepare the ingredients,” She mumbled tucking her hair behind her ear and turning back to her book.

“As you wish milady.” Her blush got deeper.

…

“I’ve made you a time table.”

Draco took the parchment in his hands and began to unfold it, by the time he opened the last flap it extended just beyond the borders of the library table. It was organized into columns, his classes listed on the left and dates from then to the end of the year across the top. Class assignments were filled in with target dates for completion and  _ suggested supplemental  _ reading and activities listed throughout. He didn’t want to tell Granger, but it was very thorough and would likely be a tremendous help.

He folded the parchment up, tucked it into his bag, and returned to the book in front of him. He heard her little scoff and could clearly picture the look of indignation on her face, but he would not give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

She huffed louder as she sat down in the seat across from him and began unpacking her materials. Draco was barely able to concentrate on his reading as her irritation with him flared and she slammed a large volume down; ruffling his parchments and forcing him to meet her eyes.

He simply raised one eyebrow in question. “Well?” She needled.

“Did you finish the translation in runes today? I thought the last three lines were rather ambiguous myself.”

She drew herself up, preparing for a lecture. “There was nothing ambiguous at all about them.” She scoffed, Draco smirked at his successful redirection, she continued, “The cross hatching clearly indicated the translation was ‘by the moon  _ and  _ sun one finds their way’ the ‘and’ thusly implying they must both be considered, if the hatching were oriented more vertically, I could understand your confusion, since that would translate as ‘or’. But then of course…” He held up a hand to stop her, smirk still in place

“Thank you for the time table, Granger.”

She exhaled and let her shoulders drop. “You’re welcome.”

He watched her organize her books, quills, ink, and parchment. When she finally opened her Arithmancy book and her quill was poised to begin writing he struck. “Maybe I can finally beat you in grades for once.” Her head slowly rose, her eyes wide. “And it will all be thanks to you.” He pointed at her with his quill and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

She gave a little growl, and hurriedly returned to her work. He could feel the waves of frustration rolling off of her as she furiously scratched out equations and grumbled to herself.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute she was with her hackles up. Nudging her foot with his under the table she finally looked up again. He shot her a real grin. “Truly, Granger, thank you.”

She relaxed once more giving him a nod and returned to her work. This time the quill traversed to parchment at a more reasonable rate and pressure.

…

Hermione groaned in satisfaction. “These are incredible.”

“She only makes them on special occasions.”

She reached in the tin for another. “I don’t know what the occasion was, but these would make anything special.”

Draco hummed in amusement, and agreement, as he selected a hand-made chocolate truffle from the tin.

He savored the rich confection, his eyes closed, breathing in the crisp Scottish breeze coupled with the deep earthy aroma of the chocolate. When he opened his eyes, it was to find Hermione’s dancing in delight, and her teeth in her bottom lip, the threat of laughter on her face. “What? Is there chocolate on my face?” He began to swipe at the corners of his mouth.

She released the laugh now, “No, I just think it sweet is all.”

“Chocolate is sweet. That’s the general idea.”

“Not the chocolate.” She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “That mummy still sends ‘her little dragon’ treats.” Her smirk was vicious as he narrowed his eyes at her.  _ Did she see the card?  _ She broke into full blown laughter, falling backwards in the grass.  _ Yes. She saw the card. _

Draco huffed in annoyance and turned toward the lake with his arms crossed over his knees. Her laughter stopped and he heard a sigh, “I’m sorry, Draco.” This was the first time he remembered her saying his first name. He turned to look at her. Those eyes, as dark chocolate as the truffles, beseeched him for forgiveness, he tried to harden his stare against their wiles. She giggled again, “Oh, lighten up you big mama’s boy.” She shoved him playfully on the shoulder. “My grandmother always said you could tell a lot about a man from his relationship with his mother.”

Draco ate another chocolate while he considered her words. “What can you tell about me?” He asked, his eyes fixed on the lake and his voice just above a whisper.

He wasn’t sure she’d heard him, but after a few long moments she answered, “I think you value your family; that you understand, better than most, the power of forgiveness and second chances. And despite the tough persona you armor yourself with, you know that love is a force more powerful than any other.”

Turning back to the lake, he nodded, his eyes distant. 

“My grandmother sent more blood orange.” Hermione riffled through her bag and shortly produced the plump fruit.“ Instead of a knife, she dug her finger nail into the top and peeled the skin back and divided it into wedges. “It’s my last one, seems only fair to reciprocate for the gorgeous truffles.” She offered him a wedge.

“Tell me more about your grandmother.”

Hermione squeaked in surprise her mouth full of orange. She swallowed quickly, a bright smile lighting her features. “She’s one of a kind. She’s a muggle.” He fixed her with a look that said ‘duh’, she lightly shoved him again, he waved for her to continue. “She moved to Spain, when I was six. Said she always wanted to live by the sea and have an orchard.”

“She couldn’t live by the sea in Britain and have an orchard?”

“Fair point, but I think it was the adventure… the romance of it all. Moving to the Mediterranean, being truly on her own for the first time.”

Draco scrunched his brow in confusion. “My grandfather had passed on the year previous.” He nodded solemnly in understanding. “He and my grandmother were always planning and scheming about their next trip. They loved to just wander… get lost for a day, see what they could find to get up to.”

“She sounds like fun. My grandparents would hit me with a stinging jinx if my posture fell during tea.” He waved off her look of shock, “Go on, I want to hear more.”

Her expression became far off once again and she lie back in the grass, the clouds reflecting in her eyes, Draco, taking a chance reclined as well. 

“She was the first person to know about my magic. When I was four, she gathered up a picnic and we hiked… it seemed like miles at the time, but I’m sure it was only to the field by her house. Anyway, she spread out this patchwork quilt and opened her hamper and pulled out silver platters of scones, petit fours, chocolates…” Her face met his with a smile which he returned readily. “And real china tea cups and saucers. She had prepared tea in a thermos.”

“What’s a thermos?”

“An insulated container for keeping liquid warm or cold and has a lid to prevent spills,” she explained quickly. “So here we are having tea and a butterfly flitters past, so of course, four year old that I was, I began to chase it, my hand out hoping it would land on my finger. When it didn’t, I stomped my foot in a fit, but as soon as my foot connected with the ground, the flowers around me burst from their stems and began to flutter all around my head. My grandmother said she thought it was some trick of the wind, until I began to run about the meadow and the fluttering flowers trailed after me. I didn’t notice anything was strange and she just calmly led me back to the blanket for tea. She’s been my confidant about magic since.” Draco saw a simple joy and peace etched on her face as she turned to him. “What happened when you did magic for the first time?”

“I blew up my mother’s favorite vase and was sent to my room without dessert.”

Her laughter echoed over the Black Lake. 

…

The wind whipped through Draco’s hair as he dipped and dove on his broom. His cheeks stung with the chill, but he pushed his broom faster and faster, tucking his body low over the handle. He let his mind wander and disconnect as he circled the pitch at top speed, made hair pin turns and risky practice feints.

He let his feet touch down softly in the grass before launching himself straight toward the sky; but as he rocketed forward he heard someone calling his name. He pulled up on the handle to stop his ascent and looked over his shoulder to see silhouetted figure at the entrance to the pitch; but she was unmistakable with her voluminous hair. 

Turning the broom around he shot toward her at top speed. To her credit she merey fixed him with an admonishing look when he stopped the broom just inches of her before dismounting.

“Can I help you, Granger?” His tone tired and his face that blank mask he'd worn for years.

Hermione’s eyes sparked in confusion and her brow furrowed at his cold tone. “You weren't at dinner.”

“I know you’ve spent the better part of the last seven years overseeing the lives of your dunderheaded friends, but rest assured, I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself.” He made to remount his broom and take off when he was hit square in the face with a wrapped package. He shot a glare at Hermione, and she returned his fire with her own.

“Well forgive me, won’t you, but I thought  _ friends  _ cared about each other's well being.” She bent to pick up the wrapped package. When she retrieved it he saw that it was soft dinner rolls filled with chunks of roasted chicken. 

She whipped around to leave with a huff, and stomped back toward the castle.

Dropping his broom he raced off to catch her. With just a few hurried strides he was close enough to reach out and grab her shoulder. 

She stopped but didn't turn to look at him. “Granger,” he rubbed his hand down his face with a sigh, “I got some news this morning, and… and I just needed some time to think.”

He felt her deflate, she turned to look at him again and held the chicken rolls out toward him, “You shouldn’t think in an empty stomach. Sorry to have intruded.” She made to leave once again, and he couldn’t let that happen. 

“Won’t you at least keep me company while I eat?” He called out.

Resigning to his request, she turned and they strolled back to the pitch, taking a seat in the stands. Draco tore into the package of chicken rolls, his hunger meeting him full force. Hermione leaned back on her elbow to the row behind them, looking at the stars.

When he finished his snack, Draco reclined as well, taking in the inky sky. “There you are.” Hermione pointed to the cluster of stars in the Draco constellation.

Draco made a noise of derision. “Being kept down by the man like always.”

Confusion painted her features. “Hercules. He’s got his big fat foot right on my head.” Draco gestured angrily toward the sky.

“I’m certain your using a metaphor right now, but I’m afraid I’ll need more information.”

Rifling in his cloak, he presented her with a letter; the seal was broken and it looked as if it had been crumpled and then straightened. She opened it and mumbled silently as she read the contents, she gasped and turned toward Draco, her face alight with excitement. “They ended your probation!”

‘Yes, and now I’m expected to take up the mantle as the Head of house Malfoy.”

“Is this why I saw you storm out of the counseling office today?”

He deflected, “What were you doing at the counseling office?”

“Just because no one mandated I have therapy doesn’t mean I don’t need it.” She ducked her head chewing on her bottom lip, her hair falling in her face.

Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. She stood to leave and a soft touch to her wrist stopped her. She stilled and waited for him. “I should not take my frustrations out on you.” She nodded, he continued, “Fly with me.” He descended to the next step and mounted his broom, motioning for her to take a seat in front of him. “I know you don’t like to fly, but I promise I’ll go slow and you won’t fall.”

Her eyes sparked, “Who says I don’t like to fly?”

“I’ve only seen you fly once… in the Room of Requirement.” His voice fading on the last part.

“Well… I’ll have you know,” she extended her arm and a broom flew into her outstretched hand, “I can sit a broom just fine. I am a witch after all.” And with those words she mounted the broom and shot off into the sky.

Mouth agape for several moments Draco watched her begin a series of lazy spirals around the pitch; wild curls flying behind her as she rose higher and higher. With a renewed smirk, he launched himself to join her.

They flew for almost an hour before Draco was struck with hunger once more.

Hermione practically dragged him to the kitchen.

…

They arrived at the kitchen with no incident. Hermione tickled the pear and the portrait opened onto a scene of bustling house elves, levitating dishes, and charmed cleaning equipment. 

Once spotted by the elves the pair were shuffled into seats around a small scrubbed wooden table. “What would the young Granger and Malfoy be wanting this evening?” asked a sprightly elf, an apron fixed securely around her waist. 

Hermione, who was summarily rebuffed in her efforts to help the elves, simply asked for a tea and biscuits,  _ if it wouldn’t be too much trouble and only if you’re sure you aren't too busy; _ but Draco had bigger plans in mind and soon a roast beef sandwich dripping with thick gravy, a side of fresh crisps, a bowl of fruit, and a cold pumpkin juice was placed before him.

They each ate silently, but when Draco swallowed the last bite of his fruit, Hermione asked, “Why are you upset about your probation ending? I would have thought that’s a good thing.”

“It is a good thing. I think I was just caught off guard by the ramifications of it.”

“Those being?”

“Being a head of my house for one,” he said giving her a look that indicated she could have figured that on her own. 

She pursed her lips at him and motioned to continue. “I just never saw myself as the head of house, at least not at this age. Say what you will about my father, but he had a presence. He commanded attention and respect.”

“But is  _ commanding _ respect the best way to go about it? Wouldn’t you rather  _ earn _ people’s respect.

“Just how am I to do that?” 

She rolled her eyes. “The way you’ve already been earning it. By being more than just a talking head, and contributing more than just money to reconstruction. By spending your time rebuilding this castle and Diagon Alley. Forging friendships and relationships with people whom you were once in opposition… by being a leader through actions more than just words.”

The resolution in her voice was enough, but he saw the truth in her eyes; Hermione Granger held him in respect, she believed he was a leader… she saw him as a friend.

“Thank you, Granger,” Draco finally spoke, his voice thick with the emotion of the moment.

A scarlet hue rose in her cheeks as she bit her lip, ducking her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

He reached across the table, putting his hand over hers; she looked up at the contact, her eyes sparkling bronze in the torchlight of the kitchen, “There are innumerable things to thank you for… but primarily for looking past our history and giving me a chance.” He paused, his gaze going distant, “I’m not sure it’s a chance I deserve.”

“Of course it is!”

Scoffing at her indignance. “How can you want to save me when I didn’t even try to save you?”

“What could you have done? Attack your aunt and get us both killed?”

He shrugged, but his eyes landed back on the fiery witch across from him; on the scar left on her neck by his aunt’s dagger.

Hermione pulled herself up straight, extending her neck and flipping her wild curls behind her shoulder. “I am not ashamed of this scar--of any of my scars--I was hurt, but I heeled and the scars are a reminder of all I went through to still be standing here today. I will wear my scars proudly.”

Draco pulled the corners of his mouth into a grin of reluctant acceptance. Reaching out as if to touch the scar on her neck, much to his surprise, she leaned in, but before coming in contact he dropped his hand. “I’ve never even apologized.”

“It’s never too late,” she whispered.

His response was several deep breaths later. “I’m sorry.”

Hers was immediate. “I know… you’re forgiven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to my girl, Mcal! She's amazing!
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this little tale, and if you are, please send some love via kudos or review! Thank you lovely readers!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Draco caught up with Hermione in the hallway as they left Arithmancy. She smiled in greeting and bumped his shoulder with hers. Their friendship was easier than Draco could have imagined. Hermione was as challenging as she was easy going and could be as vibrant as she could quiet.

Draco leaned down to speak into her ear, “I have a surprise for you.” His voice almost a pur. The blush on her cheeks did not disappoint. “Meet me by the Black Lake after dinner.” They arrived at charms and each took a seat, Draco sitting with Theo and Daphne and Hermione with Neville.

Draco peeked over his shoulder at the still blushing witch and leveled her with a proud smirk, the quirk of his eyebrows asking his question. Rolling her eyes, she smiled back and nodded her acceptance. 

…

The day seemed to drag, but finally it was time for dinner. Draco filled his plate and tried to eat at a leisurely pace, his training in manners and etiquette not going to waste, but he was anxious to meet Granger.

Laughter from the Gryffindor table drew his attention to her once more. Her smile was bright and her face was flushed from amusement at the story one of her housemates was telling. _ No doubt some fool hearted shenanigans. _

She caught his eye and smiled shyly, that plump bottom lip tucking beneath her top teeth. He tilted his head towards the door, but she held up one finger to delay their exit.

“Could you be staring at her any harder?” Blaise nudged him in the ribs.

Clearing his throat, Draco began to cut into his chicken. He put on his most unaffected air. “Mind your own business, Zabini. We are friends, and as such have an appointment after dinner.”

“An appointment? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Theo piped in, “Luna and I just call it--”

“Theo!” Draco cut him off, “I beg you not to finish that sentence.”

Waggling his brows, Theo returned to his meal with a wicked smile on his face. 

Looking back toward the Gryffindor table, Draco saw Hermione gather her bag, bid her friends goodbye and walk toward the exit. Draco quickly, but gently released his knife and fork and did the same. 

Theo called out, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” 

Not turning around, Draco shook his head, all the while smiling at his impish friend.

…

When Draco arrived, Hermione was standing close to the shore, her eyes fixed on the sky above and her arms wrapped around her as the chilly air drifted off the lake.

Coming to stand next to her, his shoulder just a breath from hers, he looked up following her gaze. The sky was a rich velvety black and the stars blinked at them, constant as always. Gossamer clouds floated on ethereal currents: it was a serene evening, the only sounds the light splash of the lake lapping at the shore and the soft rustle of the leaves as the breeze tickled the trees.

“There you are.” Her voice a whisper, almost swallowed by the air.

“Of course,” he matched her tone, “I wouldn’t stand you up after all.”

He saw her lips quirk at the corners in his peripheral vision, but their eyes stayed fixed on the sky above. Standing so close he felt her shiver beside him and looked down to see her rubbing her hands over her upper arms. Without a word, he removed his cloak and fixed it around her delicate shoulders.

“You’re just like your name sake,” she motioned toward the sky, the Draco constellation faint, but visible, “Always here for me it seems.”

“That is the general idea of friendship.”

She hummed in agreement, biting her lip as was her habit, and looking at him for the first time since his arrival, her eyes holding a shyness to them he had not noticed before.

Reaching into his pocket. Draco removed a handkerchief and transfigured it into a plush blanket. “Milady.” He gestured grandly for her to take a seat and she did so, with a silent shake of her head, but an amused smile. Draco settled beside her and they reclined to watch the stars once more.

“Do you want your surprise?” Draco finally asked.

She turned her head, a soft smile on her face and nodded silently.

Draco sat up and Hermione followed suit. He reached into his pocket, but hesitated in removing her surprise. “Close your eyes.”

She narrowed her eyes in a playful dubious gesture. “Please?” He added after a moment, then with an approving nod, she complied with his request.

Working quickly, he removed a small cloth bag from his pocket, enlarged it to its original size and removed its contents. He dug his thumb into the top of the offering and began to peel back the outer layer. The rich, bright scent carried on the breeze and he heard her intake of breath as it met her nostrils.

Draco could see the anticipation on her face, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, those plump pink lips pursed to fight the smile evident in her cheeks. Finally, putting her out of her misery, he touched the blood red wedge to her lips. She gasped at the first touch, but eagerly accepted the bite of orange. 

She moaned. A wholly feminine sound that came from a place deep in her throat and went straight into Draco’s soul. Pulling his hand back, he licked the bit of sweet juice from his thumb just as her eyes opened. Her breath caught and her lips parted, the starlight shown in her blown pupils. “More?” he whispered.

“Yes,” She breathed, but before Draco could retrieve another orange wedge Hermione surged forward, her lips connecting with his.

Her full soft lips pillowed against his own as her riotous curls blew around their faces. The taste of orange was still fresh on her lips as Draco sat stunned by her actions. He felt her pressure retreat and thought better of his surprise as he leaned into her and returned the kiss.

Her energy melted into his as he brought his right hand to her cheek, brushing tenderly over the lush skin. His hand migrated into her curls as he felt the pressure of her palms on his chest. His left hand found the curve of her waist and drew her closer still as she brought her hands to his neck, the soft pads of her fingers toying with the wisps of hair at his nape.

With a gasp she pulled back, Hermione’s arms still around his neck and her face burning with shock. “Draco… I’m… I didn’t…” Draco pulled her closer and quieted her stammering with his lips. This one was short and almost chaste, aside from the light nip to her bottom lip as he pulled away. He leaned into her, his forehead resting on hers, their noses brushing each other, their lips just out of reach.

“Never…” he closed the distance placing a soft peck on her lips, “be sorry…” another peck, this one reciprocated with more pressure, “for the best first kiss of my life.”

Hermione’s hands tightened around his neck, as she relaxed into him again, their eyes locked as hers shone with mischief and delight, “Just the best _ first _ kiss huh? Seems I have my work cut out for me.”

With a playful growl, Draco began to tickle the cheeky witch until, consumed by giggles, she fell back onto the blanket; her arms around his neck pulling him half over her. His eyes softened at the mess of curls fanned out around her blushing face, and pushing a few rebel curls from her cheek kissed her once more.

The quiet of the lake, the whisper of the wind, and the steadfast stars bore witness to the budding of new romance as the pair shared kiss after kiss laced with the sweet essence of blood orange and rich anticipation of the future.

....

Pansy watched Draco leave to follow that mudblood again. If not for years of practice at schooling her features and reactions, her face would have been a distorted mask as she screamed in rage, but alas, she was a properly bred _ pureblood _ lady and she did no such thing.

She politely bid adieu to her classmates and they waved distractedly as they listened to Looney tell some far-fetched tale of a clearly fictional creature. Picking up a green apple she calmly walked from the hall.

How could Draco chase after someone as disgusting as the mudblood? She’d not missed the looks they’d begun to share during meals and in class. And the way she had inserted herself into Draco life, dragging him to the library, making him ridiculous study charts. _ Abominable. _

Of course she found them by the lake… _ again _. There they sat on a ratty blanket, on the hard ground, both looking up at the sky as if there was anything truly interesting to be seen up there.

A small copse provided her with the ideal observation platform and a sudden gust of wind swallowed her gasp of horror; for there was the Malfoy Prince - a pureblood legacy worthy of fear, respect, and admiration - kissing a lowly, filthy, mudblood.

Pansy watched in utter silence, her nails digging into the firm flesh of the apple she still held, the tart juice dripping at her feet. She trembled with unchecked rage, the fire of her loathing stoked from a steady glowing ember into lashing tongues of fiendfyre, as the wretched spectacle ended and the revolting couple slunk back to the castle.

Stepping from the cover of the trees she shakily inhaled to right her nerves before returning to the castle; there was much to be done to rectify this situation and it would never do to give oneself away with such outward emotion, but she would save Draco from the Mudblood swot’s unworthy clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcal, thank you for making sure I know how to punctuate dialogue. You'd think I'd know by now, but alas, I do not. You're a gem, thank you!
> 
> And thanks to you, readers! I hope you're enjoying my little story. Reviews and kudos are always appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

“Hermione, where did you put my risotto spoon?” The rattle of silverware punctuated Draco’s question as he riffled through drawer after drawer for that  _ special  _ wooden utensil. He knew the dish would not taste the same if he used just  _ any _ spoon

Hermione entered the kitchen and with a quick flick of her wrist had the spoon in hand. She sauntered up to Draco with a little smirk. “Almost as if I found it by magic,” She teased him twirling the spoon in her fingers, but as he reached out for it she pulled it away and ducked past him.

“You want to play, do you?” Her answer a mischievous smile, he took a slow step toward her.

She tried to bolt past him, but he flinched and faked and soon had her cornered. Those chocolate eyes smiled up at him, as he caged her in, his palms flat on the bench top behind her and their chests pressed together. “Give me my spoon you cheeky witch.” 

“I’ll trade you for it.”

“Bargaining with a Slytherin - and a Malfoy no less - such a brash Gryffindor you are.”

“That may be true, but I’m prepared to fight for what I want.”

His voice took on a husky tone. “And just what is it you want?”

The glee emanated from her at their little game. “You tell me what you have to offer.”

Draco leaned in, pressing himself closer and whispered in her ear, “I have nothing to offer, but a mere kiss.” He was sure to brush his lips ever so gently against the shell of her ear, he felt her go almost electric with anticipation.

When he pulled back, her eyes were wide and dilated, but instead of answering with a counter she pushed forward and captured his lips with hers. Draco gave in to the kiss, basking in the exquisite pressure of lips and tongues.

He reached down and lifted her onto the bench top and ran his hands along her denim clad thighs; her right hand toyed with the hair at his nape, while the left one rested in her lap, still gripping the spoon.

Feeling the smooth grain of his prized kitchen utensil, Draco doubled down on his end of the bargain. Her grasp loosened and he held his prize in his hand.

Pulling back from their kiss, he took in her face. Her smile beamed, her eyes lit from within, and her cheeks rosy. He paced a quick smacking kiss on her lips and stepped away. He glanced over his shoulder once he reached the stovetop and saw her eyes wide with playful indignation. Holding up the spoon and giving it a little shake. “I think you got the better end of the bargain, my darling. I expect recompense later.”

Hermione slid off the counter with a giggle and made her way to him. Wrapping her arms around him she watched as he melted the butter and began to saute the vegetables, she kissed him quickly in the middle of his back as he worked and pulled away. “Do I have time to run to the market?”

“What else could you possibly need from the market?

“Oh, just a few things, I’ll be back before anyone gets here.” She kissed him on the cheek and grabbing her handbag and her wand scurried out the door.

“I love you, be safe,” he yelled after her.

“I love you too. I will be.” He heard her answer as the door closed.

Draco set back to minding his risotto, the grains of rice plumping with each addition of hot broth and the dish coming together with a perfect creamy texture. Placing a temperature control charm over the dish he checked the bread in the oven and sent the dishes and cutlery levitating to the dining table.

  
As he was preparing to charm a bottle of white to the optimal serving temperature, the floo sounded and ejected an unruly configuration of black hair, shortly followed by two redheads.

“Malfoy, nice place you have here.”

Harry Potter, of all people, made himself right at home as he approached the sideboard to pour a finger of firewhisky for both he and Weasley.  _ He may no longer be _ Weaslebee,  _ but he would never be  _ Ron. _ _

“This is good stuff, Malfoy,” Weasley proclaimed as he poured another glass of expensive whisky, having finished the other in a single gulp.

“Slow down you big oaf, good whisky is meant to be savored.” Ginny Weasley elbowed her brother in the ribs causing him to almost fumble his glass. Draco could only watch as Hermione’s friends took over his sitting room, and with a resigned sigh he resumed his final meal preparations.

As Draco set the table with a wand wave, the floo sounded several more times and soon his and Hermione’s flat was filled with his friends and hers. A mix of former Slytherins and Gryffindors with a Ravenclaw thrown in the mix for good measure. 

Finally joining the group Draco greeted everyone and was pouring himself a firewhisky when Luna approached him. “Hermione’s gone.” She said it in that abstracted tone she seemed to use for everything, as if even simple declarative sentences required deep introspection.

“She ran to the market last minute. I’m sure she’ll be along any time now.”

Luna made a small considering noise and walked away, her brow scrunched in thought.

Draco watched her return to Theo’s side as he took the first sip of his drink.

“Where is Hermione?” This time it was Potter.

“She went to the market.”

“How long ago?” His voice adopting the authoritative timbre of an Auror beginning an interrogation.

Looking at his watch, Draco became suddenly aware that Hermione had gone to the market over an hour ago; and with the market being only a block away Draco became… worried.

Without a word, he pushed past Potter and tore out the front door of the flat. He vaguely heard someone calling him, but he would not be stopped.

Hoping she was distracted by a conversation with the grocer, Draco rushed to the market. Once inside he traversed the store, scanning every aisle at least twice. By this time Potter was by his side, silently looking for the same tell tale mane of chestnut curls.

Draco’s breathing began to speed up. His chest became tight. Absently he registered the feel of someone’s hand on his shoulder. Potter. “Take a deep breath, Malfoy.” Draco tried to drag air into his lungs. “I’m sure we just missed each other. Let’s head back to the flat, I’m sure she’s there by now.”

Draco wanted desperately to believe him; he clung to every hope that when they opened the door she would be ensconced by their friends, a smile on her face, and a glass of wine in her hand.

His hope died the moment the door swung inward. Luna’s usually serene expression was replaced with one of worry, and that was how he knew something was very, very wrong. “I’m going back out to search for her.” His feet had not even passed the threshold.

There was commotion and voices and questions coming from behind him, but it was all a dull static as he reached the street once again. Before he made three steps he found his feet stuck to the sidewalk. 

As he struggled to be released from the sticking spell, Potter came to stand in front of him and grabbed him by both his shoulders, shaking him lightly. Draco shot him a tense glare but Potter had his attention.

“Malfoy… Draco, you can’t just rush off. If something has happened to her, we need to involve the authorities.”

Draco drew in a shaky breath and nodded as he watched Potter’s stag Patronus burst forth from his wand; then into the night carrying a message for Auror backup.

By the time the Patronus was dispatched, the other visitors to their flat had congregated around Draco on the sidewalk. Potter, in full Auror mode now, directed everyone into groups of two to search the surrounding area. The groups broke away, Hermione’s name floating on the evening air as they called for her. “Let’s get a move on, Malfoy,” Potter called as he turned and tore down the sidewalk.

“Potter!” He kept walking. “Potter!” Draco shouted louder. Finally, he turned to see Draco standing in the same spot, gesturing toward his feet, still held fast by the spell. With sheepish cringe and an absent wave of his wand the spell was lifted and Draco joined the search party.

Returning to the grocer first, Draco inquired if she had in fact made it to the store. The cashier confirmed that Hermione had made a purchase of fruit, but he couldn’t remember what time.

Back on the sidewalk they were joined by a small contingent of Aurors. Potter took lead in relaying what information they had while Draco sunk deeper into the pits of his mind, consumed with fear for the woman he loved.

“Look a feather.” Luna’s dreamy voice was back and her eyes wide with… something Draco couldn’t place, as she followed a single white feather into a dark alleyway. Theo followed behind her, a glint of panic in his eyes as she disappeared into the shadows. 

Feeling helpless and restless, Draco wandered toward the alley. The soft glow of Luna’s wand cast long shadows along the surrounding buildings and surrounded her in a mystic aura as she bent over to look at something on the ground. Theo reached her side and as he drew closer their faces were illuminated in the wand light as they examined what was scattered on the ground.

Luna reached down, retrieving one of the items, holding it up to inspect it closer. “Why would someone throw out such lovely fruit?” 

A sharp gasp escaped Draco as he saw the characteristic blush on the skin of the orange--a blood orange. When he looked down he saw the carnage of a shopping bag filled with more fruit and just off to the side was Hermione’s handbag.

The following moments would be blurry in Draco’s memory. Theo’s distant voice as he called for the Aurors. Blaise dragging him out of the alley. The question in Luna’s eyes as she carefully examined the white feather that led her into the alley.

But Draco would never forget the feeling of hopelessness that accompanied him that night as he was forced into bed by Ginny Weasley and his mother. 

His eyes traced the stitching on the duvet aimlessly, the calming draught forced down his throat in full effect, as only the moonlight fell on Hermione’s side of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Mcal, my darling friend, for being so incredibly supportive throughout the writing process. You are so generous with your time and talents. You are a gift!
> 
> Thank you once again to the readers, without which, writers would cease to exist. I'd love to hear what you think, and thank you to all of you that have reviewed or left kudos. You have no idea what your feedback means to me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The Ministry was blessedly quiet as Draco stepped out of the visitors' floo. He was quite thankful that the floos were in service once again, that phone booth was cramped and stale and being flushed into a building would  _ never  _ do for a Malfoy.

His shoes clicked rhythmically on the polished marble floors as he walked to the lifts. It too was empty and the eerie voice announced his floor before he had a chance to be disoriented by the jerky movements.

Stepping off the lift he walked straight to his destination, through the door and sat behind the desk.  _ Thank Merlin the chair was reasonably comfortable as he waited for the next two hours to pass. _

…

“With the state of this desk it’s a small miracle you can solve any cases, Potter.”

The file Harry was reading fell out of his hand and was replaced by his wand. “Holy Shi…, Malfoy, what are you doing in my office?” Harry lowered his wand and used it to summon the case file. “Don’t you have an empire to run?”

Draco leaned back in Harry’s office chair and waved his hand, the epitome of nonchalance. “I have a board of directors. I’d rather be here checking on your progress.”

Harry visibly deflated at that. It had been a month since Hermione disappeared. A month with no leads and the hope of finding her slipping farther and farther away. Draco made daily visits to the Auror department until he was told, in no uncertain terms by head Auror Robards, that he was to return to his civilian life and let the experts do their jobs. Only the resolute look in Potter’s eyes as he held up his wand over Robards’s shoulder, a clear threat of stunning and forcible removal, motivated Draco to leave. 

He came every other day now. And he came early to avoid run-ins with the head Auror. Potter wasn’t so lucky.

“You know we're doing everything we can.” Harry rounded the desk and motioned for Draco to vacate his chair. Draco did so with an affected air and settled himself in one of the visitor’s chairs.

He watched silently as Harry sighed over the piles of paperwork and fidgeted with his muggle writing pens. With a sigh, Harry slumped in his chair. “This is hard for me too, you know?”

“I know.” It was a quiet answer, Draco’s swagger from moments before evaporating.

“It is killing me not to have an answer. I keep thinking if it was me that had gone missing, Hermione would have known exactly what to do and found me in no time, but… without her, I feel so lost.”

“How do you think I feel, Potter? That woman… “ Draco tore his misting eyes away from Potter’s all too piercing gaze, “She was…  _ is _ … everything to me.”

“We’re doing everything we can.”

Draco stood abruptly, cutting him off and knocking the chair over in the process, “Well do more!”

Harry stood in answer, “It’s out of my hands!”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sighed, collapsing into his chair, his hands tugging at his already unruly black hair in frustration, “Without any leads Robards is turning it over to missing persons.”

Draco carefully picked up the fallen chair and sat himself in it, leaning forward his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “How could she just disappear, Potter? How can we know nothing more than we knew a month ago? We have magic! How can she just be… gone?”

Harry just gave pitiful shake of his head with an equally pitiful shrug of his shoulders.

Standing with an obstinate huff, Draco straightened his blazer and turned on his heel. “You’re just going then?” Potter asked.

Draco was at the door and turned to the man he once held in such contempt, “Yes, I’m going. I’m going to find Hermione.” And with that final statement he walked out of the Auror department, ignoring the looks, ignoring Potter’s pleas, and primarily ignoring the deceptive voice in his head telling him that maybe he wasn’t meant to have Hermione after all.

...

Draco made two stops. One to his flat, where he threw clothes, and toiletries into the duffle Hermione had charmed for him, and one to the Manor to inform his mother of his plans.

His mother asked few questions, simply wishing him success and kissing him gently on the forehead. 

Less than an hour after leaving Potter’s office, Draco felt the disconcerting pull of the portkey as he spun away to Australia. 

…

Richard and Helen Granger had only met him once, so showing up at their home unannounced sparked their immediate concern.

Hermione confided in him that learning what their precious daughter had been through all those years left a deep fissure in their relationship; the memory modification and exile to Australia being the least of these. They knew their daughter was strong and independent, but felt she could have--should have--been more open with them about the socio-political goings on of the wizarding world; particularly as they pertained to her safety.

Draco felt increasingly miserable as he watched Helen’s eyes--eyes just like Hermione’s--fill with tears, and her father’s face harden as he drew into himself.

“I never thought there would be a time I would miss Monica and Wendell,” Helen cried miserably as her husband held her, his stare piercing through Draco like frozen blades.

“Doesn’t our daughter deserve some peace in your world? Don’t we all deserve it?” 

“I love your daughter, sir, and I will not rest until I find her safe and sound.”

Draco sat motionless on the sofa as Richard carried a distraught Helen from the room. The click of the door shutting muffled her miserable cries as Richard returned to the sitting room. He rifled through the desk in the corner and returned with a slip of paper, offering it to Draco.

“This is her grandmother, Caroline’s address in Spain. She and Hermione were always very close.” And with a parting nod Richard left the room to return to his wife’s side.

Stepping into the back garden, Draco apparated to the Australian ministry, a portkey to Spain soon in his hand.

…

She too had Hermione’s eyes. And Hermione’s hair, though Caroline’s was streaked with grey. The most striking resemblance was the fire; the fire in her eyes, and the fire in her spirit.

Draco knew immediately why Hermione was so close to her grandmother - they were so alike, it was a glimpse into the future. He only hoped he’d have a chance to live that future.

“Draco, my dear.” She took his face in her hands and just looked at him. Her soft umber gaze breaking down the defensive walls he so carefully built, and before he knew what was happening hot tears were streaming down his cheeks as she clutched him to her small but solid frame. 

It was at that moment he realized he’s not grieved for Hermione’s loss. Though he hoped not a permanent loss, a loss it still was, and he let his heart break for the unfairness of it all.

Caroline guided him to the deep couch in her sitting room and held him as he cried for his lost love.

…

_ The air in the grove behind Caroline’s house was thick with the scent of orange blossoms. Draco walked along the rows of the orchard, the low branches brushing his face and the high grass blowing gently just below his finger tips. _

_ Reaching up to touch a velvety petal he saw movement from the corner of his eye.  _

_ Hermione was there. _

_ His breath caught in his throat at her beauty. Her loose curls blew freely around her face and shoulders and the gauzy white fabric of her dress billowed in the breeze. She absently sniffed a bloom and then with a playful smile at him, she turned and bounded off into the orchard, her delicate fingers trailing over the top of the grass. _

_ Draco took off at a run to catch her, but no matter how fast or far he went, he could get no closer. _

_ His voice was swallowed by the wind as he called out to her. _

_ She stopped, and as if there was a barrier, Draco stopped as well. Hermione’s eyes turned to the sky as she extended her arm to the heavens. He strained to see what she was seeing when suddenly, a pure white dove landed on her outstretched hand. _

_ She brought the dove to her chest and stroked softly over its back. Once again looking at Draco, Hermione released the dove toward him. _

_ Draco extended his hand in invitation, waiting for the dove to land, knowing that this dove carried with it an understanding beyond his comprehension; but as the dove reached his hand there was a bright flash of light. _

_ ... _

Draco woke with a gasp. He took in the surrounding room and let his head collapse back on the couch when he realized he was still in her grandmother’s sitting room.

Rubbing his hand down his face, he sat up with a groan.

“I’m glad you got some sleep, dear.”

Draco turned over his shoulder to see Caroline bustling into the room with a tea tray.

She set the try down on the table in front of him and settled herself in a nearby armchair. Draco could smell the peppery citrus notes of the Earl grey mixing with, what was surely, blood orange marmalade for the selection of offered scones.

“How do you take your tea?” Caroline held up a floral patterned china teapot and poured tea into two matching teacups.

“Just honey, please.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as she prepared his tea.

Taking the cup in his hands he let the scent surround him and the warmth seep into his bones. The first sip filled him with a comfort he’d lost in the last month. They sat in easy silence as they sipped their tea and nibbled on the scones.

“She was there… in my dream.” Draco whispered.

Caroline reached out and patted his knee affectionately, a knowing smile on her face.

Once the tea and scones were consumed, Caroline rose from her chair. Draco stood as well.  _ Once could not forego good breeding in the face of tragedy.  _ She patted his cheek and offered him a soft smile, “Let’s get you situated in a proper room. I can’t have you tired while we work the garden tomorrow.”

Draco didn’t protest. He followed Caroline to a small guest room; his duffle was sitting on the end of the bed. She told him where the bathroom was located and bid him a quiet goodnight. Mechanically he attended to his basic hygiene needs, donned some sleep trousers, and fell onto the bed.

Even after his kip, he felt the heavy pull of exhaustion due to his lack of sleep over the previous weeks. With his face buried in the pillow, he let sleep pull him under, hoping all the while Hermione would be there once more, even if only in his dreams.

…

The thick waft of coffee drew him from his bed. It was rich and earthy and teased his senses with the promise of warmth and satiety. He dressed quickly, practically, remembering Caroline’s edict of garden labor. 

“There you are.” Caroline smiled brightly, the lines around her eyes pulling at Draco’s heart as he thought of Hermione’s eyes and cheeks, so young and supple, and how he may never see the remnants of their shared love and laughter caressing her face. “Cafe’ con leche?” He nodded and she pushed a frothy mug toward him as he sat at the small table in her kitchen.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Thank you.” He sipped his coffee, the creamy texture and strong taste waking and warming him simultaneously.

Caroline looked over her shoulder from the stove where she was stirring a pot, “Valerian root. Does the trick every time.” She winked at him. She had dosed his tea with a sleeping aid. _So brash._ _Merlin he missed Hermione._

After he finished a plate of eggs and toast, as well as another coffee, Caroline announced that the day was wasting and it was time to get to work.

He dutifully followed her outside, put on gloves and got to work helping her weed and plant in her herb garden.

They didn’t speak much, outside of what communication was necessary to get the job done, and at the end of the day, after a hearty helping of paella, she served him another cup of tea with valerian and he found sleep easily once again.

His days faded into a blur as he fell into a routine. He would wake, help her with whatever chores she needed, enjoy the layered and vibrant food she served and find sleep with the help of her dosed tea. 

Caroline let this go on for three weeks.

Dragging into the kitchen after a particularly unsettling dream - one where Hermione called to him over and over, but he could never reach her - he sat at the table to receive his morning coffee. 

This morning however, the smell of coffee was absent from the air and Caroline was absent from the kitchen.

Getting up to look out the kitchen window, Draco found her in the back garden, his mother’s owl perched on her arm.

As he stepped into the garden, Evangeline took flight and landed on his shoulder. He removed the letter tied to her leg and she promptly flew back to Caroline. She cooed at the owl for a few moments then Evangeline took back to the sky, presumably to England.

“Your mother needs you home.” He met Caroline’s knowing gaze over the top of a parchment that said exactly that, but in a carefully composed and subtle undertone that he wouldn’t have recognized had it not been from his own mother. Of course she was struggling as much as he was. She’d lost her husband, almost lost her freedom, and was now losing her son, just not in the physical sense.

“I don’t know if I can go home.” He was losing himself.

Caroline approached him and drawing her arm through his led him into the orchard. It was exactly like in his dreams, but lit golden by the sun instead of the cloudy haze of his subconscious. 

They walked along silently; he liked that about Caroline, she never pushed, it may have been her greatest difference from the granddaughter so like her in many ways.

“I haven’t told you about when I knew Hermione was special… magical.”

Draco smiled despite himself, “She told me. You took her on a picnic and she made the flowers fly when she threw a fit.”

Caroline laughed softly at the memory, but shook her head, “No, that was the first time,  _ Hermione _ knew about her magic. I knew the very first moment I held her.” She squeezed his arm drawing him a bit closer, as if she was pulling the memory closer to her heart. “She was such a small thing… but so… remarkable.” her voice a reverent whisper. “She opened her eyes and they were so dark--you couldn’t tell the color really--and she looked up at me and blinked and I could see the sparks firing in those fathomless depths. She radiated with something that was different… magical. I knew immediately that she would experience great things, but not the great things every parent or grandparent hopes for their child… things beyond that of understanding.

“I knew about you the first time we met too.” Draco looked at her puzzled. “That you were my Hermione’s true love,” She answered. “It’s not in the way you look at her or any of those other things people use to equate love, though you can see it there too. It’s in the way your souls convene and the magic that fills the air when you’re together. She needs you, Draco, just as you need her.”

“She’s gone.”

“No she isn’t. Not forever. But she needs your help to come back to us.”

Draco shook his head in despair, “What am I supposed to do?”

Caroline stopped then and stood in front of him taking his face in her hands. “Go home. Go back to England and live. No matter what, she wants you to live.” She kissed him on the cheek and released his face, “She’ll come back to you. Maybe not as you’d expect at first, but she’ll find her way.” Then she turned and walked deeper into the orchard, leaving a confused and equally enlightened Draco in her wake.

Draco knew Caroline spoke the truth as her words sunk into him.  _ She clearly had the sight.  _ He watched her for a moment more as she wandered the orchard and then he turned back toward the house. 

After gathering his sparse belongs he stepped out to the back garden to apparate to the Spanish Ministry. Before he could turn on the spot, Caroline caught his eye from the edge of the orchard and gave him an approving nod. He smiled and nodded back in thanks and then he was gone into thin air, the pop of his apparation scaring the birds from the orchard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it every other chapter, so why stop now? Thank you, dear, dear Mcal for all that you've done to make this story possible.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I value your reviews and kudos.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Returning to England was a completely reasonable idea when standing in Caroline’s picturesque orchard. Actually being back was a exercise in psychological torture. He tried to live in the flat they had together… but she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It tore at his soul. Narcissa insisted he move back in with her. He knew the suggestion wasn’t just for his benefit, but hers as well.

So with the utmost care he packed Hermione’s things into storage boxes and moved them to the Manor. He returned for his belongings and sent the box only through the floo. He stood in the sitting room, his risotto spoon in his hand and surveyed the empty flat. He needed to clear his head. He shrunk the spoon, pocketed it, and walked out the door; the soft clicking of the latch feeling somehow final.

The afternoon sun painted the street with a golden glow and people hurried about paying no attention to the forlorn wizard as he strolled through the lively neighborhood he’d enjoyed with Hermione.

Distracted by two small children chasing a training snitch down the sidewalk he collided with a woman coming out of the market.

“I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t watching…” He’d steadied the woman by the upper arms, but his apology died on his tongue as she looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Pansy?”

“Hello, Draco, “ she purred.

He released her from his grip and took a step back. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

She waved him off with and shook her head playfully, “I don’t actually. I was in the neighborhood, visiting a friend, so I thought I’d just pop into the market for a few things before I head home.”

“You’ve found a place. that’s wonderful. I wasn’t sure… with your parents…” He cringed at the unsavory topic, but she waved him off again.

“No bother. I found the most darling cottage.  _ Really precious. _ You should come for tea sometime.”

He politely agreed that he should, but hoped that the invitation was rhetorical, much as his acceptance had been. 

“Oh, it’s just so good to see you, Draco.” She pulled him into a hug. He felt awkward and returned it, patting lightly on her back and hoping she would release him quickly. She held on longer than he expected, and he hoped it was just his imagination that she rubbed herself against him before pulling away. 

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he cleared his throat, “Well… you look good, Pansy. I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Oh, they certainly are. You have no idea.” Her eyes glinted with something mischievous, a look from their childhood when she was carefully planning one of her schemes, but a look he’d not seen on her face since the war ended. Perhaps she was getting some of her old spirit back.  _ That was good, someone should have things work out for them. _

He smiled at her, a genuine smile, one he’d not felt on his face since Hermione went missing, “That’s great, Pans. I’ll see you around, yeah?” He nodded and continued down the sidewalk as he heard her call out. “I’ll owl you about tea. You should bring your mother.” He waved once more and then ducked into an alley to apparate to the Manor.

…

“Draco, darling.” His mother’s arms were around him before he had fully materialized and she squeezed him with a strength that belied her size. She pushed him away to inspect his person fully; patting over his cheeks and arms, she smiled in approval of his fitness. “Come, let’s get you settled. Then we’ll have tea in the solarium” And with that she dragged him off toward his old suite of rooms.

The joy radiated off Narcissa as she threw open the double doors leading to his suite. The ebony wood furniture was the same, but she’d clearly overhauled the room in preparation of housing her adult son. Gone were the requisite Slytherin green walls festooned with tatty house banners and quidditch posters. Instead the walls were a soft grey and accented with clean minimalist art. On the bed, the once gaudy silver duvet emblazoned with the Malfoy crest had been replaced with a rich indigo covering and boasting numerous pillows. If Draco felt he could find sleep, he would have fallen onto the bed and cocooned himself in its downy embrace, but as it was he was terrified of what he may find once his mind had reign to drift in the freedom of slumber. 

“...Don’t you think, darling?” Draco looked at his mother, just realizing she’d been talking the whole while. “Draco, don’t you think it was high time I redecorated the manor?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, “Yes. Yes, mother. It looks lovely.”

Narcissa made a very ladylike noise of amusement, “I’ve only just begun really, but now that your back, you could lend me your assistance.”

“Of course, mother. Happy to help.” He felt the corners of his mouth pull apart, but definitely not in an upward trajectory.

Laying a soft hand on his cheek, Narcissa smiled. The smile of a person who knew his pain and wished nothing more than to take it away, even for a moment; and although she couldn’t relieve him of its burden completely, she could help him carry it. “I’ll just let you get settled while I sort tea.” And with that she left him in the quiet of his room.

He mechanically unpacked, muscle memory from years of coming home from Hogwarts guiding his way. He stepped in to the en suite and lined his toiletries along the shining counters. There was an extra bottle in his kit. It was Hermione’s bath oil.

Before he could stop himself he opened the top and inhaled the sweet fragrance of orange blossom and jasmine. The pain of it tore through him like a knife. He replaced the cap and hastily stowed the bottle in the back of a cupboard. Gripping the edge of the counter he forced ten measured breaths in and out of his lungs and then splashed his face with cool water, hoping to project a semblance of composure. He took in his still sallow complexion and tired eyes, he decided it would simply have to do. 

…

Narcissa’s house elf was setting the tea try on a low table in the solarium when Draco entered. “Thank you, Sprocket,” she bade and the little elf flapped its ears happily at Narcissa and then popped from the room. Turning over her shoulder at the sound of his shoes, her face lit once more at Draco’s presence. “Come, darling.” She motioned toward the chair at her right. “I made some of the shortbread you love.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He gave her a genuine smile for her thoughtfulness as he lowered his weary soul into the chair.

Narcissa set about pouring tea and offering nibbles as she nattered on about her plans for the garden and for redecorating other rooms in the Manor. Draco sipped tea and offered noises of approval at her ideas only half listening, but his mother’s beaming face warmed him to his core and he thought that he might find some peace in this house after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I thanked Mcal? I have? Well, best to do it again... Thank you, my friend for all your hard work. I wish you light loads of laundry and long afternoon naps!
> 
> Thank you again readers, and as always, I'd love to hear form you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It surprised him how easily he settled into the routine of living in the Manor again. His bedroom was familiar and brought him a strange comfort he didn’t expect, but was grateful for; and his mother was a most welcome distraction from the shambles of his life.

“...So I told her that if she couldn’t see fit to give of her  _ time _ I wanted nothing to do with her galleons.”

“Very bold of you mother. What was her answer to that?” 

Narcissa gave a small sniff of derision before continuing, “Well, she promptly added her name onto the volunteer rotation schedule. Honestly, what’s the point of having all this time if we don’t contribute to society.” 

“I’m glad you have projects you’re passionate about.” He grasped her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“The freedom of choice is not a luxury I intend to squander.” She gave a resolute nod and returned to her breakfast.

A tapping at the window drew their attention to a large foreboding owl perched impatiently, waiting for entrance. A quick flick of her wand opened the window and the terrifying bird swooped toward the table, landing indolently and promptly snatching up a rasher of bacon from the platter.

Narcissa sniffed at the bird’s rude behavior, but unfurled the parchment it had dropped in front of her plate.

“Well this is unexpected.”

“Who is it from, Mother?” Draco eyed the owl hesitantly, its yellow eyes meeting his gaze in a challenge.

“Miss Parkinson.” Her eyes scanned down the parchment, “She’s invited us for tea next week.”

After seeing her in his and Hermione’s neighborhood, he’d quickly forgotten her invitation to tea, rather hoping she’d forget as well.

Narcissa was in deep consideration of the letter, while Draco was trying in earnest to shoo the voracious owl off the dining table. It had eaten three pieces of bacon and was now edging toward the spiced scones of which Draco was so fond. 

“Calm down, Draco, it’s only waiting for a response.” Narcissa threw the beast the remains of her sausage and it gave Draco a smug look.

“I suppose we should accept Miss Parkinson’s invitation?” She looked at him for his agreement as she motioned for parchment and quill from Sprocket.

“Of course, mother. I’ll check my work schedule.”

“I haven’t heard from her in quite some time. Most unfortunate circumstances with her parents. Didn’t she return to Hogwarts with you in that final year?”

Nodding he thought back to the final year at Hogwarts and how Pansy seemed more a quiet observer than an active participant. He mentally scolded himself for not checking in with her more, but she’d assured him she was coping just fine, and she’d seemed well enough the other day.

“I remember her being such a  _ spirited child _ ,” Narcissa offered as she attached the response to the massive owl and watched it swoop back through the open window.

Vanishing the stray feathers on the table, Draco chuckled, “If you mean bossy and irascible? Yes, she was a very  _ spirited child. _ ” 

He was sure she would have rolled her eyes if it didn’t contradict her upbringing. “Honestly, what do you expect from a young lady surrounded by rambunctious young men?”

She had not meant to, but the mention of  _ bossy young ladies _ put him in mind of Hermione and her indomitable spirit in the face of her two best friends--even with him. Sadness settled within him, but he schooled his expression and finished his breakfast in quiet brooding; missing his mother’s concerned gaze.

....

Trying to go about his routine--work, tea with his mother, weekly check-in with Potter--the tea date with Pansy quickly left his thoughts. Narcissa reminded him of their obligation one morning and he soon found himself, his arm still linked with hers, looking upon the quaint country cottage where Pansy now lived.

The flagstone walk was bordered by thick lavender, spiked with fragrant purple flowers. It curved gently toward front step of a wood clad dwelling with flowering vines clinging happily to its sides, trained to grow around the windows.

Pansy greeted them at the front door with a demure smile and welcomed them into the cozy interior. The furnishings were overstuffed and floral patterned. There were eclectic knickknacks gracing the shelves and tables, and light streamed in through the sheer curtains.

Pansy drew her arm through Narcissa’s and led her deeper into the house, gesturing grandly with her free hand as she talked about the design choices and how much she  _ loved it  _ here.

Draco rather thought the house was wildly out of character with the witch he’d known in his youth. She was sharp and calculated, not soft and inviting as this dwelling suggested its owner would be. As he looked around he thought that Hermione would be quite at home in a place like this.

Shaking off his melancholy temporarily, he sought to try and enjoy himself, if not for him, but for his mother; she needed some distraction from her own sadness as well as his.

Pansy busied herself with fetching tea, chatting amiably with Narcissa the whole while, as Draco continued to wander about the space. A soft cooing drew his attention and as he drew closer, realized it was a pure white dove perched in an ornate cage.

Draco approached the cage and observed the bird; it tilted its head and followed his movements as he moved around the cage, bending to get a closer look. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a dove such as this up close. He extended a finger to stroke the silken wing and when he made contact the bird began to coo louder and flap about its confinement.

Suddenly his view of the bird was occluded by a white sheet. “Oh, nevermind her.” Pansy giggled, the sound shrill and manic as she arranged the sheet fully over the cage. “She gets a little jumpy around new people.”

“I never thought of you as having a bird.” Draco mused. “Well outside of an owl, of course.”

Pansy scoffed. “Well, it isn’t as if you know everything I get up to.” She flicked a silencing spell at the cage. “Come.” She gestured to the sitting area, “Tea’s on. I got the Earl Grey because I know you like it.” As she flounced off to sit by his mother on the sofa, a white feather floated into his line of sight. Before he could repress the impulse, he grasped the feather and pocketed it.

His mother and Pansy were deep in conversation by the time he sat in the chair across from them. “These gardens are just lovely, Pansy.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.” She blushed and took a demure sip from her cup. “They’re nothing like the gardens at the Manor. I’ve always appreciated your eye for design.”

“Why thank you, dear. I’ve been toying with the idea of installing some new beds. Perhaps you’d like to join me in the gardens one day?”

Beaming at the older witch Pansy answered, “I would love that! I’ve always enjoyed a love of plants and their cultivation.”

Draco choked on his tea. He gave his chest two sharp raps and cleared his throat, his choking evolving into laughter. “Plants and their cultivation. That’s a good one Pansy.”

“What are you talking about, Draco?” Her tone was one of offense to match the scandalized look on her face.

“Come on, Pansy, at Hogwarts you regularly bemoaned having to take herbology.” He tried to affect a teasing tone. “Always saying that you were going to ‘ _ ruin your manicure’ _ , and that  _ ‘playing in the dirt was beneath you’. _ ”

Pansy did not look amused and sniffed, “Yes, well, I'm not the only one who’s done something I once thought  _ ‘beneath me’ _ .” 

The teasing smile dropped immediately from Draco face, “Right you are. Forgive me.”

Her eyes held something Draco couldn’t quite place, but she waved her hand as if shooing away the animosity.

Narcissa clapped her hands lightly, drawing the attention of the two young people and attempting to divert the conversation,.“What else are you pursuing these days, Pansy?”

At this distraction Draco sipped his tea and intermittently listened to the two witches chatter on about hobbies, charities, fashion, and idle gossip.

By the time they left, Narcissa seemed to glow with happiness at the prospect of having a young witch to mentor and Draco was pleased his mother had a confidant besides himself.

…

The click of the latch on the cottage door echoed through the space in the silence left at Draco and Narcissa’s departure.

Pansy spun on her heel and looked around the room, her face pinched in disgust. She walked amongst the furnishings, fingering the fabrics in revulsion. Picking up an ornate  tchotchke to examine it, she mimed a gag and watched as it slipped through her fingers; the splintered shards spreading across the floor. “Oops.” she giggled maniacally.

A cruel smile took over her features as she approached the covered bird cage. Ripping the sheet from the top, the silencing charm was canceled and the bird within seemed to sink in on itself in fear.

Pansy bent and sneered at the trembling animal, it stepped along the perch seemingly to distance itself from the palpable abhorrence. Pansy threw her head back in callous laughter.

"Well, well, well, little dove, what did you think of that? Seems Draco is moving on and Narcissa couldn't get enough of me. Practically drew up the marriage contract right there on the tea table." She cackled as she ran her fingernails over the bars of the cage, the metallic ting reverberating throughout the room. 

The dove twittered and flapped nervously. "Hush now, little dove, wouldn't want you to work yourself into a tizzy," Pansy purred as she reached into the cage and with a seeker’s dexterity, grasped the bird. Stroking the bird on the head, she began to squeeze its fragile body just enough to feel the bird’s heart rate accelerate. She was shaking with pent up rage and excitement. 

She shoved the bird back into the cage and watched it flutter to its perch, its feathered breast rising and falling at a rapid rate. "Hush now, silly bird. Can't have you hurting yourself, I have so many plans for you yet." Then tossing a handful of birdseed into the cage, she flung the sheet over it.

It was with severe distaste that she vanished the feathers from her clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest gratitude to Mcal for her work as alpha and beta on this tale. She is so generous with her time and her friendship.
> 
> Thank you for reading and (hopefully) reviewing/kudos'ing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Time has an unfeeling habit of marching on despite the circumstances of one's life.

Draco found this especially true as the weeks dragged on with no insight into Hermione’s disappearance.

He clung to Caroline’s promise that she would come back, but his faith was slipping.

Work was a passable distraction, but the company ran smoothly and the board of directors was wholly competent, leaving little for Draco.

He continued to harass Potter, but even the small joy in irritating his former rival was waning as he watched Potter’s life progress as he wished his was. Potter and Ginny were recently engaged, driving the spike in deeper as he ached for Hermione each day.  _ Hell, even Weasley seemed to be finding happiness. Where was his portion? Where was Hermione?  _ They still knew nothing more than they had before.

Narcissa threw herself into charities and gardening and Draco could see the fire returning fully to her eyes. His envy, like his pain, knew no bounds.

Returning from work on a blustery fall day, he was surprised to enter the Manor without a greeting from his mother. He called for Sprocket and was told she was in the garden.

Draco ventured out the door of the solarium and strolled down the path. Before he rounded a bend in the lane he heard laughter and another voice joining that of his mother’s.

“You were positively apoplectic.” Twin lilts of female laughter floated over the hedges.

“Can you blame me? It was my favorite dress.” It was Pansy.

Draco stepped quietly around the neatly-trimmed boxwoods and watched as the two witches spread soil and gently nestled bulbs within its depths.

“Those boys always had a knack for finding trouble, and you young lady,” Narcissa pointed at Pansy with her trowel, an amused smile on her dirt smudged face, “You were never far behind.”

Pansy shrugged, she seemed surprisingly clean, “I didn’t want to miss any of the fun.” They laughed again and placed the last of the bulbs into their holes. As they began to gather their tools and stand, Draco made himself known.

“I should have known you’d be out here, Mother.” He reached then and planted a kiss to his mother’s cheek. Stepping back he acknowledged Pansy with a respectful nod.

Narcissa began dusting her dirt stained hands on her utility robes as she looked on their work and bent to pick up the remaining tools. Pansy looked down at her hands and then at her bright sundress with a grimace. Holding her hands out, palms up, toward Draco, she raised her eyebrows in silent question and he brandished his wand to clean the dirt from her hands. 

Pansy reached up and removed the pin from her hair allowing it to cascade over her shoulders. Her raven tresses fell in rivers of soft curl that framed her face. “I must look an absolute fright.” She breathed, looking at Draco from beneath her dark lashes.

Draco was taken aback. “I--I didn’t know you had curly hair?” 

She giggled and shrugged, “It’s always been like this. I usually spell it straight. Seemed silly to keep going through the trouble.” Tucking one of the coiling locks behind her ear, while biting her bottom lip drew a gasp from Draco. The mannerism was so reminiscent of Hermione. Pansy blushed at the attention.

“Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ve some things to take care of in my study.” And with that he turned to escape the disconcerting events of the past few moments. As he rounded the hedgerow, he heard his mother’s voice once more.

“My, Pansy, are you warm? Your face is quite flushed.”

Draco extended his strides to reach the house faster.

…

He put the strange occurrence with Pansy in the garden out of his mind, attempting to cling once again to routine daily tasks and obligations.

Dinner with his mother often proved a welcome distraction.

However, one particular evening, he found his normally quiet dinner for two, a dinner for three, with Pansy joining them.

She beamed at him from across the table as he took his seat. “You’re looking well, Pansy.”

“So are you, Draco.” Her tone soft and shy, very unlike the Pansy he once knew. But Draco resolved not to dwell on the inconsistencies of manner in relationship to personal growth and tucked into the first course of his meal.

Narcissa was a gracious hostess and dinner was comfortable, but soon the dessert plates were cleared and the evening was drawing to a close. “If you’ll excuse me,” Narcissa rose from the table, Draco followed suit as manner dictated, “I must see to some correspondence before turning in. Draco, darling, you’ll see Miss Parkinson to the floo?”

“Of course, mother” He agreed, placing a kiss to her warm cheek as she passed him to exit the room.

Pansy rose from her chair and stepped around the table, coming to stand in front of Draco. She gave him another of those beneath-eyelashes gazes and a shy smile while she tucked once again curly hair behind her ear. “I’ve had a lovely time tonight. Should we have a drink in your study?”

With a sigh and a discomfited rub to the back of his neck he answered, “I’m afraid I must turn in as well. Busy day tomorrow and all that.”

“Very well.” Her previously smooth voice edged with something sharp, “I’ll just be going then.”

“I’ll see you out.” And offering his arm he escorted her to the floo in the front room.

Draco tried not to feel the tension in the air as he walked her toward the exit. It felt strangely like a date, even with his rational brain reminding him it most certainly was not.

Reaching the floo, Pansy turned toward him, every bit the demure flower he’d never seen her. “I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“I’m sure we will. You and mother seem to get along swimmingly.”

She blinked up at him. “You and I get along well too.”

“Well, we have known each other for some time, it’s only natural,” he allowed. “Have a restful evening.” He bent to offer her a friendly peck on her cheek, but as his face approached hers she turned and captured his lips in a kiss.

It began as just a press, but she darted her tongue between his lips. Good judgment gave way to the loss of a lover’s touch these long months since Hermione’s disappearance, and he returned the pressure. He pulled back suddenly, his gut roiling with his perceived indiscretion. Pansy was looking at him with wide eyes, once again biting that bottom lip as her breath escaped in quick pants.

“Good night then, Draco.” And with that, the floo sprung to life and she disappeared into the green flames.

Draco groaned at this new complication and headed to his study for a firewhisky after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcal, you glorious individual, you, thank you for being a bright shining light in this fandom! And thank you for being such a patient and supportive alpha/beta, I couldn't do it without you!
> 
> I'd love to hear from you, readers. I hope you're enjoying it, and I hope you'll consider leaving a kudos or even a review. Thanks so much for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Pansy, it seemed, had decided that all her free time should be spent at the Manor.

Draco found her having tea with his mother, helping in the gardens and even enthusiastically levitating vases and furniture about rooms in an effort to help redecorate. His mother smiled more and it pleased him to see some of her vibrant spirit return.

“Yes, just there, dear. That looks lovely.” Narcissa smiled at Pansy as she waved her wand positioning a large flower arrangement in the middle of table. “And you say you grew these in the garden at your home? Marvelous!”

Pansy blushed at the praise and stepped closer to the arrangement to tweak some stems. Deciding to interact for once, Draco stepped through the door and greeted the women.

“Look at what a wonderful gift Pansy’s brought me, Draco. It’s so nice to get flowers again.” She mused with a faraway gaze.

Making a mental note to send his mother flowers occasionally, Draco watched as Pansy busied herself with the arrangement in lieu of making eye contact with him. He was hoping the weeks that had gone by would lessen the awkwardness from what, he kept telling himself, was an accidental kiss, but she maintained a coy demeanor around him. He wasn’t really complaining, but he had enough on his mind without worrying over Pansy’s misplaced affections.

A sharp clap of Narcissa’s hands drew both Draco and Pansy’s attention. “Shall we retire to the solarium for tea? I made a fresh batch of truffles this morning and I’m dying to try one.” She gestured in the direction of the solarium and when Draco offered his arm to escort his mother she insisted he escort their guest instead.

Pansy tucked herself deeply into his side as they walked along the corridor. He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his forward, not wanting to encourage her further.

Passing the floo room, the signature whooshing of an unexpected arrival drew the small group’s attention. Draco released Pansy’s hold on his arm and ducked into the room, his hand on his wand, just in case.

“Malfoy, just the man I was looking for.”

“Well, it seems you’ve found me, to what do we owe this singular pleasure, Potter?” Harry rolled his eyes in response.

“I was hoping we could speak about the case.”

But before Draco could answer, “Who is it, Draco, your mother is waiting?”

Harry’s brows shot up his forehead as he peaked over Draco’s shoulder. “Parkinson? What are you doing here?”

She gave a haughty little hmph, “I’m an invited guest into this grand home.  _ You _ are the one that barged in  _ uninvited.”  _ That seemed very much like the Pansy of old.  _ How odd. _

Harry lips were poised to answer, but Draco lifted a hand hoping to cut them both off. Turning to Pansy, “Go ahead to tea with mother, I have business with Auror Potter that must have slipped my mind.”

Stepping forward, Pansy laid a soft hand on his bicep and gave him a demure smile, “Try not to be too long,” her voice breathy and lilting, a stark contrast to moments before, “all business and no… _ pleasure _ ,” she ran a finger down his arm and then turned with a sweep of her full skirt and sashayed from the room.

Harry stared in confusion as Pansy left the room, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on his breaths to ease the vexing sensations of Pansy’s flirtation.

“What in the name of Merlin was that about?”

“She and mother have grown close, but I fear that she fancies there being an opportunity for something with me.” Draco grimaced at the idea. “Come, Potter, let’s go to my study.”

Of course, Harry Bloody Potter could not leave well enough alone, “Is your mother encouraging her? Have you encouraged her?”

Draco scrubbed his hand down his face as they walked, “No, of course not. It’s just a… misunderstanding.” he tried to wave it off, not wanting to think about--or explain to Potter--that untimely kiss from weeks ago.

Potter didn’t seem convinced, but Draco managed to silence him and make it to the study without further discussion of Pansy.

Immediately walking to the drink cart along the far wall, Draco unstoppered the decanter of firewhisky and shook it in Harry’s direction. He shook his head and took a seat in the chair across from Draco’s desk. Firewhisky in hand, Draco fell into his desk chair. He looked at Harry in question and sipped his drink.

When the silence dragged on several moments too long, Draco finally spoke, “You came to talk to me, Potter. I’m afraid social convention dictates that you start the conversation.”

That did the trick and after a weak withering glare, Harry finally started. “Things have been a bit slow in the Auror department lately.”

“How nice for you,” Draco goaded.

Harry rolled his eyes, but continued, “I was able to pop down to Missing Persons.”

That got Draco’s attention. He put the firewhisky down on a coaster and leaned forward, hands clasped tight and elbows resting on his desk, “Aaaaannnnndddd…”

“There may finally be a lead.”

Draco’s eyes grew wide, his heart pounding, his breath catching in his throat, “Well, what the bloody hell are you doing here, you should be out following this lead!” He practically jumped from the chair.

He was pacing about the room muttering, making plans when Harry stopped him, “That’s just it… I  _ am _ tracing the lead.”

Confusion colored his face, swiftly followed by anger. “What do mean, Potter? Surely no one thinks I’ve anything to do with her disappearance?”

Harry quickly backpedaled. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Well what is it then?” He was getting frantic.

“It’s a pulse of magic. It’s weak and its intermittent at best,” Harry looked defeated, “but it’s the most solid lead we’ve got.”

“So, how is sitting in my study ‘following the lead’ exactly?”

“Like I said, it’s intermittent, but it regularly traces here to the Manor.”

“Her wand is here, but no one’s touched it in months. Surely that’s not it?”

“The trackers don’t think it has anything to do with her wand. That’s not how traces work anyway. The trace picks up on the magical core--a person’s magical essence if you will.”

Collapsing in his chair once more Draco raised his brows at Harry, “I’m aware of how one’s magical core functions, thank you.”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Finished-second-to-the Brightest Witch of her Age, it was a new concept to me.”

“Are there any theories as to why her magical signature traces here to the Manor?”

Harry resumed his seat, “That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about. Have you noticed anything strange, no mysterious communication, no blips in your wards?”

Thinking back over the previous weeks and months he’d been at the Manor, Draco couldn’t recall any such occurrences.

Resignation poured off Harry as he trudged back through the Manor halls and vanished into the floo.

“Did Auror Potter leave?” His mother’s voice was soft and concerned behind him as he watched the emerald flames subside.

He answered with a nod and made to return to his office, but was stopped by his mother’s voice: “I’m sorry you missed tea.”

“That all right, Mother. There will be more tea. We do live in Britain after all.” He was trying for nonchalant, but felt he’s failed if the sad look on her face was anything to go by.

She gave an amused hum and looped her arm through his as he began to walk aimlessly down the hallway. “Pansy certainly missed your company.”

“I thought she came more for your company, mother.”

“I’m sure a vibrant young woman such as Pansy has better things to do with her time than entertain an aging widow.” The suggestive tone in her voice was not missed by Draco.

Stopping in the hall and disentangling their arms, he turned to face her, “Just leave it, mother.”

She met his eyes beseechingly, “I just want you to be happy, Draco.”

He nodded and leaned down to bestow a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll be in my study if you need me.” And with a sigh he retreated, Narcissa watching him walk away as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a massive thanks to Mcal for her fantastic alpha/beta work.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story and will consider leaving kudos and reviews. Thank you, beautiful readers!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Draco watched the elves move box after box into the guest suite. He told himself it was temporary, she would land on her feet and move out in no time; but her sharp, decisive orders for her unpacking informed him otherwise. Pansy had  _ moved in  _ to the Manor; and it seemed she was determined to be properly settled.

Of course, the distraught woman of the previous day was nowhere to be seen. 

Even Draco could admit Pansy looked pitiful and lost as she burst into the solarium during tea. 

“They’re contesting the sale!” She wailed, her hair awry and black smudges trailing down her cheeks.

His mother, bless her, had taken Pansy in her arms and tried to soothe her distress, but the wails increased in volume and pitch until Draco could scarcely tolerate it. And he thought that would be the worst of it until Pansy launched herself at him. Her unruly--and still confusing--curls tickling his face and smothering his nose with their overly floral scent, as she proceeded to soak the front of his shirt with her tears, all the while clutching to him and begging. “Hold me closer, Draco, make it all go away.” That, was by far worse. Those maddening curls put him in mind of Hermione, but try as they might, the twisting tresses paled in comparison.

“Pansy, dear, who is contesting what sale, exactly?” 

With a great sniff, she pulled Draco closer as she moaned, “My house! They're trying to take back my house!” Draco tried to push the coarse, noxiously sweet smelling hair out of his nostrils under the guise of patting her head consolingly.

“Who is?”

“The family of the previous owner,” she sobbed, “they say the sale was illegal and I have to be out in twenty four hours!” Her choking sobs grew louder. Draco’s shirt grew wetter.

“Oh, dear, well that is quite unfortunate. Perhaps you could stay in one of our guest suites?” Narcissa offered.

Draco shot his mother a look over the top of Pansy’s head he hoped conveyed his alarm and general disagreement with this idea, but she chose to ignore him. Pansy, chose to draw him tighter into her embrace and squirm inappropriately. Draco patted her in as comforting a manner as he could muster, throwing in a muttered ‘ _ there, there,’  _ for good measure and peeled her from his person.

Thankfully she went willingly, dropping to the sofa, and helping herself to tea and biscuits. She calmed considerably and seemed eager to coordinate with Narcissa on the logistics of the move.

Draco sat in quiet shock as his tea cooled to an unacceptable temperature, and the tear stains crusted over on his shirt.

…

Before leaving for work, his mother reminded him that Pansy has lost much due to circumstance as well; being sure to add, “How can one in good conscience call themselves a friend and not extend the hand of hospitality?” 

Too exhausted by the ordeal to argue, Draco conceded and escaped to work, hoping to avoid any manual labor.

Alas, his plans were foiled. Stepping out of the Floo, he was accosted by a manically charged Pansy, who henceforth dragged him toward the east wing guest suite--the guest suite closest to  _ his _ room.

“Draco, you simply must help me arrange my things,” Pansy chattered as she tugged his arm, “It’s just such a darling thing your doing for me. I simply can’t imagine not having the room perfect. It wouldn’t do at all for your ancestral home to be cluttered haphazardly.” She tittered out a laugh, the sound shrill and grating, but mercifully, they had arrived at her door and she released him. 

The room was, in fact, quite cluttered at the moment. Pansy’s clothing lay about in piles on every available surface. And Draco watched as a line of elves brought more boxes through the door. 

“Pansy, did you only bring clothes?” Draco asked as he opened a box and pulled out an endless wave of pink ruffles.

Pansy’s eyes grew bright and rounded as she watched the layers of chiffon emerge from the box, she grasped it from Draco’s hand and spun around, fanning the skirts about her in an imaginary dance. Sighing down at the frock, “I only brought the things I love.” She dropped the dress onto the floor and sauntered toward Draco, her lips pursed in a pout, “You do want me to have the things I love don’t you?” she whispered as she reached as if to put her hand on his chest.

Draco stepped away, and nodded, “Of course, Pansy. If the clothing makes you happy, then you should have it here while you stay.”

She took a step toward him, but he nodded once and turned quickly from the room, ignoring the disappointment in Pansy’s eyes as he retreated. Breaching the threshold, he was passed by a spritely elf, carrying something covered by a sheet. Making way for the busy elf, he stepped just outside the door. 

“Missy Pansy, I have your bird.” He could hear the excitement in the elf’s voice.

“Ugh, that thing,” He heard her scoff, the soft femininity in her voice from moments before gone, “Just stick it over there… and DON’T get it close to my clothes. It will get feathers and shit everywhere.”

Stepping down the hall, Draco couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that there was something amiss with Pansy.

…

So he avoided her. He went to the office earlier, worked later, scheduled tea with friends and harrassed Potter more just to be outside the Manor. If Pansy found him she would simper, toy with her hair and try to stand within his personal space. What good manners he possessed were surely being tested and the fact that she was monopolizing his home _ and _ his mother… well, to put it mildly, he was  _ on edge _ .

It was a great relief the previous night when his mother informed him that she and Pansy would be shopping the next day. Draco was growing weary of avoiding home and coveted the opportunity to wander the halls and brood in solitude.

The day broke grey and dreary--a perfect day for brooding as it were--and Draco took breakfast in his room before adjourning to his study to simply read and be.

Quiet introspection and literature seemed the ideal way to pass the day, but when Draco was grazing the shelves for his next read he found it,  _ Hogwarts, A History _ , Hermione’s favorite book. He’d watched her so many times; hair piled on her head, soft leggings and one of his old quidditch shirts, curled up on the sofa to just flip through the pages and gently trace the pictures and her favorite passages. The look on her face when she read it to him was glowing and open; her umber eyes alight with wonder; wonder that shone in her eyes whenever she did magic - or watched anyone do magic. Hermione had treated magic as the gift it was. 

As he opened the well-loved tome, something fluttered to the ground. Bending to pick it up, Draco found the pure white feather he’d taken in his pocket from Pansy’s house. He never knew why he felt compelled to keep it, or why he’d tucked it in this particular book.

Replacing the downy marker he tucked the book mindlessly to his side; he felt restless and useless and just generally forlorn today. His life - everyone’s life - was going on, moving forward, but still he felt stalled. When he’d finished Hogwarts and moved in with Hermione, he imagined rainy days would be for quiet tea and love making; the sweet frivolity of simply being with the woman he loved, but she remained missing and he and the Aurors remained ignorant of her whereabouts. 

Having begun to wander, he found himself, inexplicably, in front of Pansy’s door. Even though her room was near his, he’d avoided this hallway since her arrival.

He stared at her door for a long moment, reaching out to push it inward, but stopping himself at the last second. Then he heard it, the soft coo of Pansy’s dove and he gave in to the impulse.

Entering the room, he found the decor largely unchanged, save for the ornate cage in front of the window. The rainy weather set a diffuse light throughout the room, painting a forlorn aura and strange shadows through the filigreed bars of the enclosure.

Draco pulled a chair closer to the cage and simply looked at the bird for a long moment. Its dark eyes surveyed him in turn and he reached a finger through the bars to stroke its wing. It gave a soft coo and edged over on the perch as if to get closer to the curious wizard.

“You’re quite soft.”

The bird only looked at him.

“I don’t know why I’m talking to a bird. It’s not like you can answer me.” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at himself.

The bird cooed in response.

“Just as well. I’m afraid I’m maudlin company today as it is.”

The bird tilted its head and Draco chuckled. “Perhaps a bit of reading?”

The dove cooed once more. Draco considered it an affirmative noise and cracked open the book beneath his arm.

…

And that’s how it became something of a habit; sneaking into Pansy’s room to talk to her bird. Draco often found himself questioning his sanity whenever he got the notion to tell the bird about this or that.  _ It was a ruddy bird.  _

So on a lazy Saturday, when his mother and Pansy were again out stimulating the economy, he found himself seated by the wrought iron cage as he prepared to read more of  _ Hogwarts, A History.  _

“Where did we leave off last time?” He flicked the pages with the tip of his finger, “Ah, yes, the ceiling of the Great Hall.” He cleared his throat dramatically, “ _ Charmed to reflect the sky outside the castle, the Great Hall ceiling is an example of the power of collaborative magic. Upon the inception of the charter…” _

“Draco?” Pansy’s voice startled him. “What are you doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Mcal. I know I keep saying it, but your help and support have meant the world to me during this creative process. Thank you, my friend.
> 
> Another thank you to the readers that are still with me. I hope you're enjoying it and will let me know what you think with kudos or a review.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

She’d watched him for the last five minutes and couldn’t let it go on a moment longer. He’d avoided her like she had Spattergroit for weeks now, and he was choosing to spend time with that pathetic bird?

And what was worse, were the tender looks he gave the vile little creature. If Pansy had not needed the bird, she’d have done away with it ages ago, but alas the filthy bird remained.

“Pansy?” She watched him rise to his feet, fidgeting with the large tome in his hands. “I didn't realize you were back, I was just…”

“You were just what?” She snapped, “Reading to that ridiculous bird?”

“I… well…,” he hesitated a moment then drew himself up to his full height, “actually, I find I quite enjoy reading to your bird.” 

Pansy pursed her lips and drew a long hissing breath in through her drastically upturned nose. She exhaled, trying to calm her features, but she could feel the tension.

She took a slow step toward Draco. He moved the book from arm to arm, Pansy was thrilled she affected him. “You enjoy reading to the bird.” The chill and challenge in her voice evident. “A dirty, disgusting, waste of fowl… and you  _ quite enjoy _ reading to it?”

Never knowing Draco to back down, she was pleased to see him adjust his posture and don his mask of superiority.  _ It was such a good look on him. _

“Indeed I do.” He turned to glance at the cage, his face softening.  _ Why would he be so taken with that stupid bird?  _

The dam of tension building within her broke at that moment. With a scream of fury and frustration, Pansy drew her wand and sent a light blasting hex at the wall by the fireplace. Plaster and paper flew through the air as the wall began to smolder.

Draco whipped around, mouth gaping at her. “Just what the devil do you think you’re doing?” He yelled.

The end table was the next to meet Pansy’s wrath. “What is it about the stupid bird?” She seethed, her white knuckles pulsing around the shaft of her wand.

Holding a hand up in surrender, Draco edged in front of the cage. “I don’t know why you’re so upset, but you must realize these past few months have been difficult for me.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t feel as lonely when I read to it.” He finished on a whisper. 

Pansy sneered and made a noise of general disgust. Her next words were spoken slowly through gritted teeth, “I’ve been right here… for months.”

“You don’t understand, Pansy...”

He was cut off by her scream and the shattering of the window from the blasting hex she aimed just left of his head.

“Are you crazy?” He bellowed.

...

The contorted mask of her face caused him to retreat backward; his hand slowly lowering toward his wand as he watched Pansy send slicing and blasting hexes around the room. 

Downy feathers liberated from the sofa floated through the air, the silent ballet as they drifted downward a stark juxtaposition to the witch flinging hexes at everything stationary. 

Wand firmly in his hand, Draco brought the tip up, aiming carefully at the enraged witch. But before he could fire a  _ Stupefy _ , an errant spell left her wand and landed at his feet. The shock of it caused him to stumble back knocking over the bird cage with a loud clatter.

The clanging of the metal seemed to rise above the din of Pansy’s rage. As Draco rolled to the side in what he felt was an impressive evasive maneuver, Pansy lurched forth attempting to throw herself over the cage, its filigreed door opened and its occupant flapping frantically. She landed short of the cage and began to crawl frantically toward it, but as her hand made contact with the ornate bars; the dove found freedom through the open hatch.   
  


Screaming once again, Pansy scrambled to her feet, “NO!” She began to leap into the air, groping impotently. “Catch it!” Her face turning redder with each attempt. “Don’t let it get away!” But her pleas were for naught as it flew through the window she’d smashed open minutes before.

Draco felt the dangerous tingle of uncontrolled magic and tried to scramble toward the door in his still supine position, but Pansy trained her wand on him, her eyes clouded with rage and her hair sparking violently. 

“Look at what you did.” She stepped toward him, her body visibly trembling. “How could you let this happen?” Her voice was low and dangerous.

He held his hands up, his wand discarded in favor of peaceable surrender. “Pansy…”

“SHUT UP!” She shrieked

Draco shut up, and tried to continue his trek toward the door as inconspicuously as possible. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve force my hand now.” Pansy raised her wand, a true aim at Draco’s chest. He closed his eyes and waited, but all he heard was a dull thud.

Peeking through only a slit in his eyelids he saw Pansy in a heap at his feet.

“Draco, darling… are you all right?”

Turning he saw his mother, wand still pointed at the stunned witch, her face pinched in fear he’s not seen her wear since before the end of the war. He gave her a grunt of affirmation and returned to his feet.

Narcissa took one deep breath and then levitated Pansy into the bedroom, leaving her on top of her bedclothes. Returning to the destroyed sitting room, she flicked her wand and set the room to rights.

“Sprocket.” 

The elf landed at Narcissa feet with a soft pop. “Yes, Miss Narcissa?”

“Please keep an eye on our… guest.” Her tone was unmistakable, the elf nodded once in agreement. “When she wakes, see that she has some… special tea. Something to keep her calm and help her sleep.”

“As you wish Miss Narcissa.” And Sprocket popped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcal... you know the drill... Thank you for everything you've done to help me share this story. You are an amazing individual!
> 
> Thank you, lovely readers for any kudos and reviews you've gifted me with, and I hope to hear more from you! It's a real treat to hear your thoughts on my story.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_ He didn’t remember this part of the Manor grounds. Or if he did it had been years since he’d simply walked and enjoyed the sights and sounds. _

_ The trees were thicker here and the hedgerows loose and informal in contrast to the staunchly maintained gardens that adorned the back of the house. _

_ He ran his hands over a branch of sweet olive, the cloying fragrance dancing in the air around him. The cool green surrounding him a balm to his weary soul. _

_ “Draco” _

_ It was a mere whisper on the breeze. _

_ “Who’s there?” He returned, his voice barely carrying on the wind. _

_ “Draco.” He heard it again, still faint, but unmistakable. _

_ “Hermione!” _

_ His feet carried him forward a frustratingly slow pace toward the origin of her voice. _

_ He turned a corner and there she was; draped in gauzy white, her curls swirling around her. _

_ He called to her again, but she shot him a coy look over her shoulder and took off, deeper into the trees. _

_ “Hermione!” Excitement and fear laced his tone. “Hermione, wait!” _

_ “Find me, Draco,” she called back, her voice fading on the last syllables. _

_ He ran faster and farther into the copse, turning each corner as he saw her disappear again and again. _

_ Making a turn once more, he found himself at the end of the path. He slumped down his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Where are you, Hermione?” He sighed. _

_ “I’m so close.” Her voice distant and disconnected. _

_ He stood, taking in his surroundings, when he noticed it. A blood orange tree. The dark verdant foliage shone in the bright light of the clearing and the delicate white blossoms swayed merrily in the breeze. _

_ He approached the tree, his hand outstretched to caress the velvet petals when a commotion in the high branches drew his attention. _

_ Perched on the highest branch of the tree was a pure white dove. A dove much like the one that had escaped from Pansy’s cage. _

_ “Can you help me?” _

_ The dove cooed. _

_ Draco watched in agony as the dove flew away, and with it - he felt - his only hope. _

_ … _

His eyes flew open as he was pulled from the dream… or was it a nightmare, at this point he wasn’t sure. Slumping back into bed, he turned and checked the time.  _ Might as well check in with Potter. _

Quickly dressed and ready for his day, Draco, made his way to the Floo. As he rounded the last corner he was stopped by Pansy.

“Well, hello there,” she purred, a hand on his bicep as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He stepped around her only allowing a curt grunt in acknowledgement. Reaching for the floo powder, he was stopped with a manicured hand atop his own.

“About the other day,” she began, a teasing tone lacing her voice, “I don’t know what came over me, I was having a bit of an…  _ off day _ .” She shrugged.

He could only offered a non-committal hum of consideration before he finally grasped a handful of floo powder.

Throwing down the glittering dust, he stepped into the grate. But before he could disappear into the network he heard Pansy cry out, “Wait, Draco!” Ignoring her plea, he responded, “Must be off then.” Called out his destination and spun away.

…

It took the length of the Ministry lobby and the lift ride to the Auror office to calm his nerves after the short encounter with Pansy. As he stepped off the lift, he was the picture of Pureblood poise. 

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.” Harry didn’t even look up from the file he was reading. 

Draco took a seat in front of Harry’s desk, tapping his fingers on the arm rest in impatience.

Several minutes passed as Harry read, flipping each page, in what Draco was sure was a deliberate attempt to delay having what they both knew would be the same discussion.

Finally closing the folder, Harry laced his fingers together and peered across the desk at Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow.

Sighing in defeat, Harry pushed his messy hair back and slumped back into the chair. “What do you want from me, Malfoy?”

Draco gave him an expectant shrug.

“You know if I knew anything else you would be the first to know.”

“I should hope so.”

“I really wish I could do more.”

Draco nodded. “I know. I just want her back.”

“We all do.”

…

The following days brought more dreams of Hermione. No matter the dream, he was never able to reach her, despite her pleas to find her, to come to her. His frustration mounted. The dreams seemed to be coming in earnest, and Draco was sure that they held the answer, but grasping that answer was frustratingly elusive.

Upon waking from the latest subconscious rendezvous, he decided that a bit of research was in order. His intelligent witch would have his hide to know that he’d not already buried himself in a pile of parchment to solve this problem. But there was no help for it, he would go now.

He strode into the library, steadfastly ignoring the pang of longing being in Hermione’s favorite setting brought him. It was in the library at Hogwarts he’d first engaged in civil conversation with her and to be without her now; it sliced him to the quick. 

He spent a moment to run his fingers over the aged leather spines, his senses filling with the essence of centuries of knowledge. If… no,  _ when _ Hermione came back to him, he’d remember to tell her he really understood now. Understood why she held libraries in such reverence. They possessed something far beyond information; they held the promise of understanding, the potential for escape. But today, it was the possibility of answers that Draco sought.

The section on dreams was easy enough to find, however, making a book selection was a bit trickier. The subject of dreams was very popular and the floor to ceiling shelf was full of volumes on the topic.  _ Hermione would know how to choose.  _ He stared up in defeat.

It took several minutes, but Draco used a bit of family magic to find some useful books on dream interpretation and spells associated with dreams.

…

_ ...it is through this method that the dreamer can improve his or her ability to become an active participant in the dreamscape. _

He closed the last book with a huff and stood from the table, stretching his stiff back. Waving his wand at the pile of books, he began to levitate them back to the shelves; as he tucked the final tome back into place he realized he was no longer alone in the library.

Pansy stood at the end of the aisle, her dress short and tight, hair was once again pin straight, and her green eyes heavily lined. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Draco cleared his throat as she took slow swaying steps toward him. “Well it seems you found me,” he said resigned.

She gave a small laugh, dark and unsettling as she reached him. “I certainly have.” She stood before him and arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest as she placed her hand on his shoulders.

Draco’s posture stiffened as he lifted his chin, regarding the presumptuous woman before him down the end of his patrician nose. Grasping her wrists he removed her hands from his person.

But she would not be dissuaded, she smirked and began to walk her fingers up his left arm. “Come now, Draco, don’t play coy. I’ve been here for ages now. Don’t you think it’s time we made some...  _ changes _ to this arrangement?”

He grasped her hand once more and pointedly placed it by her side. “I agree with you, Pansy.” Her eyes lit up and he watched her begin to squirm in anticipation. “I think it’s time you began looking for a more permanent housing solution.” Her mouth dropped open in shock, but Draco continued on, “Get back to rebuilding your life like you were before.” And with that, he stepped around her and hastened from the room, but before the Library doors closed behind him, he heard her squeal of indignation. 

...

He needed to escape more than ever as he stepped out onto the terrace. His feet seemed to carry him of their own volition as he progressed deeper into the Manor gardens. The air held a chill, but he ignored it in favor of embracing the cleansing and awakening sensation of the brisk wind.

The path continued in twists and turns; a labyrinth of hedgerows and flower gardens eventually fading into the natural landscape. 

When he finally looked up and took in his surroundings, he realized he was in the same area of the garden that featured in his dreams as of late. Slowing his steps, he paid careful attention to the area. Perhaps his subconscious mind brought him here for a greater purpose than simply escaping Pansy.

The rows were wide and the grass was unruly. He took in lungfuls of the cool green bouquet as he observed the fruit trees, some bursting with blooms, others set to bud. He walked slowly, recognizing each detail from his dreams, when he was stopped by the one detail he had been certain existed in his dream only - the blood orange tree.

There it was, proud and green and covered with soft white blossoms. He approached the tree and sniffed a delicate blossom. Looking up he tried in vain to locate the dove from his dream, but to no avail.

It felt mad; staring at tree for answers, but he did so for several long minutes before slumping at it base and letting his head fall into his hands. 

...

Her breaths were sharp and deliberate; in through the nose and out through the mouth.  _ Breath in. Breath out. _

Watching him stare at a tree in longing was a bit much. As she watched him sink at the trunk, she wondered what had happened to the cold, aloof, Draco she grew up with. The one who used his power and connections to get what he wanted. The one who positioned himself for advantage. This Draco was weepy and wretched, though he still had his vault - and his looks - so that was something,  _ right _ ?

He would forget about that filthy mudblood and he would be hers. Pansy was ready to set her plan in motion… and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the lovely Mcal! 
> 
> And also to you, readers. I hope to hear from you in the reviews or with a kudos.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Draco focused on the rhythm of his footsteps down the hallway as he made his way to the dining room. It felt like ages since he’d taken a meal with his mother.

Save for a few short conversations, mostly centering around their concerns and suspicions about Pansy, he and Narcissa had spent little time together since the incident in Pansy’s rooms. It was a sad commentary on ones life when your own mother--with whom you share a house--must owl you to arrange a meal in said house.  _ It was imperative that Pansy move out. _

Distractedly, Draco pushed through the double doors of the dining room, covered the obnoxious distance to the table and fell into the chair at the head of the table. His mother had insisted he occupy that seat as it was only right that the head of the family do so. He’d been reluctant at first, but it was habit now.

He was alone for the moment and relished the quiet of the room, ignoring his good breeding, he leaned to rest his forehead in his left hand and closed his eyes, focusing on his breath. He heard the door open and subsequent footsteps “Mother, forgive me.” He sighed not correcting his posture. “I’m exhausted lately.”

“I’m sure I can help with that.”

His head shot up and his eyes ripped open to see, not his mother, but Pansy. Platters of hors d’oeuvres and accompaniments floated around her head; oysters, prosciutto wrapped figs, skewers of melon and mozzarella, roasted asparagus all settled artfully along the table. Then with a dramatic swish of her wand a trimmed tied prime rib wafted into the room and landed in the dead center of the table.

He eyed the food with suspicion and then the witch standing proudly beside the table, her cleavage pushed up indecently and a smug look on her face. “Where is my mother?”

A dismissive wave of her hand was coupled with a tittering giggle. “She had something come up and thought I could offer you suitable…  _ entertainment _ .” She took her seat--one he noticed was positioned closer than polite society allowed and in such a manner that he was greeted with an eyeful of her chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“If you’ll excuse me, Pansy?” He started to rise from his chair.

A plaintive cry left her lips as she reached to place an insistent hand on his forearm. “Please, Draco.” He froze half standing, “I worked so hard. One meal. Please… to set things right between us.”

Resigning, he lowered himself into the chair and smoothed his napkin over his lap. Pansy clapped her hands lightly in front of her enhanced bosom and wiggled excitedly. Draco indulged her with a tight smile. 

He suppressed a groan as she waved her wand and dimmed the lights. He even held his tongue when she prepared his plate, but he could no longer remain silent when she attempted to hand feed him a stalk of asparagus. “I think I can handle feeding myself. I’ve been doing it successfully for years.” He pushed her hand away and resolutely ignored her pout.

Brandishing his utensils he speared one of the wrapped figs. Pansy watched in rapture. “Please, partake as well. You should enjoy the fruits of your labor,” he offered, not wanting to take the first bite.

Pansy cut a dainty bit from an asparagus tip and brought the pungent morsel to her lips. Her brief distraction allowed Draco a moment to inspect the fig. Finding nothing amiss about the appearance or smell he allowed the sweet and savory flavors to meld on his tongue.

The meal continued in a simmering silence, Draco eating as little as possible, until finally Pansy broke the surface tension. “I really am sorry about the other day. I don’t know what came over me?”

Draco nodded, swallowing the bite in his mouth before answering. “You’ve been through quite a change, but it seemed like you were adjusting well on your own.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t want to be on my own.”

“I’m not suggesting you be on your own forever.”

“What are you saying, Draco?” Her voice held a breathy excitement.

Draco took a sip of wine and cleared his throat, “I’m saying, surely you’ll meet someone you can build a life with.”  _ Like I did with Hermione. _

The linen napkin in her lap floated to the floor as Pansy stood, her palms pressed into the table on either side of her plate. “I’ve already met someone.” She grit out, her face a scowling grimace.

Pushing his plate away, and his chair back from the table, but before he stood he looked at the angry woman trying to burn a hole through him with her eyes. “Pansy, when Hermione comes back…”

A malicious laugh cut him off and a surprise flick of her wand found Draco lashed securely to his chair and he felt a locking charm surround the room. "Draco… poor naive Draco." Pansy began to pace around him, tapping her wand in her palm, sparks sputtering out menacingly. "You think your little mudblood is coming back? YOU ARE A FOOL!" She screamed in his face. 

Draco tried to remain calm and followed Pansy with his eyes as she paced. "It's unfair don't you think? They way the world just fawns after that filthy little mudblood, the blood traitor and that ridiculous scarred orphan. It's disgusting! Our families have been pillars of wizard society for centuries, our culture steeped in fine traditions. And what happens? A mongrel halfblood think he can lead us?" She laughed, rough and disturbed. "He led us to ruin! Look at me! I'm reduced to stealing a house form loathsome muggles, and impersonating a homely mudblood swot. And you..." She stroked Draco's face causing him to flinch and press his head further back into the chair. Pansy sneered at him. "You're the worst of them all. As soon as the dust settled, there you were, 'let's all be unified. We're all magical, we're all equal'...RUBISH," she spat. "You turned against generations of your family to save your fortune and your hide and then you have the nerve consort with that trash." 

"You're wrong, Pansy." He spoke calmly trying appeal to her. "And just because something has been a tradition for centuries doesn't mean it's the right thing."

Pansy scoffed, "Well, I couldn't abide it, so I took care of it." 

Draco began to visibly struggle against his bonds. "What did you do?" 

Pansy waved him off and summoned another dish; a trifle, layered with blood orange. With a smug smile she filled a plate with a generous amount and placed it in front of Draco. "What does it matter? Because in just a moment, your only concern will be me and my every whim and happiness.” Picking up a spoon she scooped up a large bite of trifle and brought it towards Draco’s lips. “I'm finally going to get what I deserve.” 

As Draco watched the spoon draw closer, he reached deep within for his magic. Before the cream touched his lips he felt the bonds release and he ducked to the floor. Screaming in rage as Draco scrambled away, Pansy threw the spoon down and swept the dishes from the table. Draco slid through the mess of food and ceramic that littered the floor, thankful to put some distance between himself and the deranged witch. Flipping to his back, he barely had time to duck and throw up a shield as she fired a barrage of spells in his direction. 

As her spells bounced off his shield impotently, Pansy screamed in frustration. Her eyes were wild and unhinged as she her wand rose in a trembling hand; the power sparked through her hair and down her arm crackling malevolently at the end of her wand. A spell was forming at her lips as the doors to the dining room burst open.

As Pansy turned to watch the Auror team, led by Potter and Weasley, Draco allowed himself a moment of relief. He sprang to his feet, assuming a dueling stance, the muscle memory from the war coming back all too easily. He saw his mother rush into the room, her elegant robes billowing around her, and he rushed to her side casting a shield charm to protect her from collateral fire.

“Drop the wand, Parkinson.” Potter entreated.

Pansy laughed as she backed slowly away from the Aurors, her wand tracking over each member of the team.

“On my ready, team.” Potter called.

It was then, a commotion of flapping wings entered into the fray. The dove Draco had not seen since its escape, flew into the room and straight for Pansy. It swooped at her and tried to grasp at her wand. She flailed her arms to wave it off and it dove at her face trying to peck her eyes. As Pansy tried to deter the bird, Potter called, “Hold for a clear shot.”

Draco watched the scene play out in slow motion. The Aurors held wands trained on Pansy as she fought off the persistent bird. Stepping back into some of the trifle spilled onto the marble floor, she lost her footing in the remains of the meal. She swung her arms wildly, knocking the dove into the far wall. There was a distinct crack heard as her head made contact with the edge of the table. Pansy fell to the ground in a limp heap, her wand rolling away from her outstretched hand. 

The Aurors rushed toward the fallen witch, as the blood began to pool beneath her raven hair, mingling with the detritus from the dining table. A call for the medic echoed throughout the room as the team rushed to assess her status.

“Draco, darling, did she hurt you? Did you eat any of the trifle?” Narcissa’s voice jarred Draco out of his surprise.

“No, Mother. She bound me to the chair, but I was able to get free.” He felt his mother relax beside him, but movement from the far side of the room distracted him from the commotion of the Auror medic entering and the team rushing around Pansy. The dove lay against the wall, seeming stunned, its breaths coming shallow and quick. 

Draco bent to retrieve the frightened animal and gently cradled it to his chest. He could feel the thready heartbeat and feared that it wouldn’t be long with the world. Stroking it’s soft feathered head, he whispered. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. I’m here.” His overwhelming sadness at the bird’s imminent death left him confused, but the small gentle creature had brought him such comfort, he felt he owed it a measure of the same.

The voices of the Aurors grew louder as Pansy began to convulse, the medics scrambling to try and administer potions and stasis spells; but it was for naught. As her shaking stopped, so did her breathing. The medics waved their wands,  _ Rennervate _ s flying toward her, but she remained still. 

Draco could feel the dove’s heartbeat growing weaker, he cradled it closer and as he felt the faint pulse subside, he heard the medic. “She’s gone there’s nothing more we can do.”

Draco cried out, “NO!” All eyes in the room looked to him, as he fell to his knees. But it was quickly that they realized he was not in mourning for Pansy, but the dove held to his heart.

Narcissa began to step toward him when a bright light burst forth from his chest, blinding the onlookers. Draco was lifted off the ground and surrounded by the pure magic radiating around him. As he drifted back to the floor, the light began to fade inward toward its origin. 

And as the last of the light retreated, the room was shocked to see, not a dove held in Draco’s arms, but the body of Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcal is so good to me! Thank you so much, my friend!
> 
> I hope you're still with me and enjoying this little tale. I'd love a kudos or let me know what you think in the comments. Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Draco collapsed under the weight of his new burden, and the room erupted in panic anew.

Pulling himself to sit, he cradled Hermione against him, his tears falling over her lifeless body. His voice sounded pitiful, even to his ears, as his cries of ‘No, No,’ sounded throughout the room. He felt the Aurors approach but held her tighter still.

“Please come back to me, my love,” he whispered into her hair.

“Malfoy.” Harry Potter laid a hand on his shoulder. He tried to shrug him off. “Draco. You need to let the medic assess her.”

Just as Draco began to reluctantly release his hold on her to the Auror medic, she gasped in his arms. The room stilled and then Hermione coughed and her eyes fluttered open, meeting Draco’s.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered hoarsely, reaching up to cradle his face. At once, Draco’s tears became those of joy and relief as he crushed her to his chest and bestowed kisses over her face and hair. 

She chuckled, tears in her eyes. “You’re crushing me a bit.”

He loosened his grasp, but only enough to rest his forehead against hers. “We still need to asses her, Mr. Malfoy,” the medic interrupted.

Draco adjusted her on his lap and motioned for the medic to get on with it. With a roll of his eyes he waved his wand over Hermione for several long moments. Draco could feel the tension in her body as the wand passed over again and again. He held her tighter in response.

“Everything seems to be in good health, Miss Granger, though you are a bit malnourished.” 

Hermione made a wry noise in her throat, “You try living on bird seed for all those months and let’s see how nourished you are?”

Draco chuckled behind her and Ron remarked, “That’s our Hermione.”

As Draco was helping Hermione to stand, Harry Potter shifted his weight, his posture belying his authority, “I hate to bring this up now, but I really need to get a statement.”

Before Hermione could acquiesce to following Potter to the Ministry, Draco interjected, “Of course, but here at the Manor.” Hermione looked at him in relief, and Potter nodded his approval.

Draco led the party to his study, supporting Hermione the whole while since she insisted on walking. She did not protest, however, when he led her to the sofa and tucked her securely to his side.

The next hour was both enlightening and heartbreaking.

“Hermione, can you tell us what happened to you?”

She sighed and began her tale. “I was leaving the market, when someone pulled me into the alley. I didn’t have time to grab my wand before I was transfigured into a dove and shoved into a cage.”

“Did you see who took you?”

“Not at first. The cage stayed covered, I could hear noise from the street, but never anything distinctive, and occasionally, a handful of birdseed would appear. I didn’t know it was Pansy, until she brought me to the muggle cottage.” She turned to Draco, “you remember, you visited her there, you spoke to me.” He nodded sadly and pulled her closer. 

“You visited Pansy’s house?” Potter asked. 

“Yes, but I had no idea she was behind Hermione’s disappearance, until tonight.” Potter nodded and added a note to his parchment.

“Go on, Hermione.”

“She had Imperioused the muggles to steal their house. She would talk to me, you see. Tell me all about her  _ grand schemes _ .” She looked at Draco, “Primarily, it was getting her hands on you.”

“Why me?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Weasley joked. “What makes you so bloody special?”

Matching glares were leveled at Ron from Draco, Hermione, and Harry. Ron raised his hands in surrender and grumbled. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“It’s all right, Ron, But I can understand it, Draco is something special.” She beamed at him and he returned her love struck gaze until Potter cleared his throat. 

“Sorry,” she blushed, Harry waved her off, “Anyway, she used bits of my feathers and even drops of my blood to make a potion that helped her take on some of my characteristics.”

“Like the curly hair?” Draco realized aloud.

“Yes, and other things, but every time she was around you and you rejected her she would grow more and more frustrated. So she concocted the idea to move into the Manor. She talked to me a lot, you see. Taunted me every time she saw you.” Draco pulled her closer and she relaxed into him.

“Once she was here, I’d hoped I could get you to realize what was going on, but something in the enchantment she used blocked me.” 

“The dreams.” Draco breathed, “That was you the whole time?”

She wiped the tears from beneath her eyes. “Yes, but I could only tell you so much and it made the ache so much deeper.”

“I know,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

“How did you get away?” Potter asked.

Draco answered, “She attacked me in her room and the cage was knocked over.”

Hermione nodded. “I was able to fly to my grandmother’s orange grove. I plucked a seed and brought it back to the Manor. The tree sprang up overnight, and I hid there.”

Draco internally scolded himself for not realizing the depth of magic at play, but he shook off his disappointment in himself and listened as Hermione finished her statement.

“I knew she planned to seduce Draco, somehow. If he wasn’t willing, she was prepared to dose him with love potion.”

Looking at his mother, Draco asked, “Is that why you asked if I ate the trifle?” She simply nodded and then Potter turned to Narcissa.

“What happened between you and Pansy tonight?”

“She bound me to a chair in my study then told me her plans. Before she left the room she  _ Stupefied _ me.”

Harry looked confused, “How long till you came too and alerted the Aurors?”

Naricissa considered it, “I’m not sure, but Sprocket revived me.”

“How did the elf know?”

Hermione spoke up once more: “I told him. Even in my bird form, my magic could communicate with theirs.”

“Why not just tell the elves that Pansy had you trapped?” Weasley asked.

“Like I said something about the enchantment wouldn’t allow me to directly ask for help for myself.”

He nodded in understanding and both he and Potter made a note. 

“The rest you know, I think. Once Narcissa alerted you, you were here quickly and you saw what happened in the dining room.” Her voice sounded tired from talking and Draco could feel her leaning heavily against him.

“I think that’s all for tonight, gentlemen.”

Harry and Ron each took a turn giving Hermione a long overdue hug. She promised to see them soon and they left to check in with the clean-up team in the dining room and file reports.

Draco collapsed back onto the sofa with Hermione in his arms. Narcissa was seated in an armchair to the right and was string into the fire. The silence became heavy all of a sudden and then Narcissa began to sniff tears away in earnest.

“I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Draco laid a hand over hers on the arm of the chair. She turned her watery blue eyes onto his cloudy grey gaze, “Please forgive me, my Dragon? If I’d not tried to encourage her…” she cut herself off with her hand over her mouth.

“Mother, think no more of it.”

She nodded, but then looked at Hermione, “Miss Granger, can you ever forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” she answered, reaching over to add her hand to the pile on the arm of the chair.

They all stood, Narcissa hugged them both fiercely before excusing herself for the evening. Hermione drew her arms around Draco’s waist and rested her head on his chest. “Can we rest now, Draco?”

He kissed the top of her head, “Of course, hold on.” And with a small pop, they disapparated to his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, give it up for the amazing Mcal! All the thanks to you, my friend for your support and encouragement with this!
> 
> Only two chapter to go after this! I hope to hear from you in kudos and reviews!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

They landed with a soft thud, Draco still holding Hermione close to his chest. “Sprocket,” Draco called, and before the name faded on his tongue, the house elf appeared at their side. “Please bring up a light meal.” The elf nodded and raised his fingers to snap away. “And plenty of fresh water,” Draco added before the elf could disappear. With a single nod, Sprocket popped from the room. 

Looking down at his bedraggled love, Draco could see the echoes of her ordeal. Her hair was wilder than he’d ever seen, her eyes were underlined with dark shadows and her face pale; the clothes she wore--the last thing he’d seen her in--were ripped and dirty. Draco took her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along her still soft cheeks, simply looking at her face for the first time in months. He brought his lips to her in a gentle kiss and let the sigh from her lips wash over him.

He could have kissed her for the rest of the night, but he knew she needed more than his lips tonight, so he pulled away and with a gentle coaxing led her into the large en suite bathroom.

Once inside the lavish washroom, he seated her on a tufted stool and started to work. He opened the taps and filled the large soaking tub with warm water. He added mineral salts and a concoction of lavender and bergamot oils, the fragrant steam rose from the tub and filled the room with its soothing essence. He bustled through the cabinets and retrieved several bottles which he placed on the side of the tub.

He approached her slowly and offered his hands for her to stand. As he undid the first button of her ratty blouse, she sighed in relief and exhaustion. He worked efficiently to remove the remainder of her soiled clothes, tossing them into the bin. His eyes remained fixed on hers as he removed his clothing as well.

With a delicate nudge to her lower back he led her to the deep tub and helped her step into the warm soothing water. He climbed in behind her and settled her against his chest. As the warmth of the water and feel of their connected bodies seeped in, he felt Hermione melt into his embrace.

He allowed himself several long minutes to enjoy the feel of her skin on his, and the weight of her in his arms before he took up a flannel and the body wash he’d placed on the tub’s rim.

Keeping Hermione in the safety of his arms, he dispensed a healthy amount of wash into the cloth and worked it into a rich lather. He started at the fingers of her right hand, gingerly cleaning each one, working over her palm and wrist, all the way up her arm until he reached her shoulder. He massaged across her neck, steeling himself against the sound of her pleasure at the treatment as he continued down her left arm, ending at her fingertips.

He worked the cloth between them to clean her back and slowly brought it to the front, gliding the smooth lather over her breasts and stomach. He felt his body responding to the intimate touch, but was resolute in his intent to cleanse her and nothing more. 

Her toes received the same treatment as her fingers, and he worked his way up one leg and down the other, diligently ignoring the junction of her thighs. When he finally laid reverent fingers on the soft folds between her legs he felt her breath hitch, but gave nothing more than the considerate attention, he’d paid to the rest of her body.

Reluctantly pushing her away from his body he supported her neck as she leaned back into his palm. Using a silver pitcher, he poured the aromatic water over her matted curls, and dispensed a handful of sweet almond shampoo into his hand. He worked the cleanser into her hair, coating each strand, washing way the months of captivity. He poured several pitchers of water over her to rinse the suds and then with gentle fingers worked a thick conditioning balm through her strands, deftly removing the tangles from her tresses. 

Leaving the conditioner in her hair, her piled the sweetly scented mass atop her head and settled her against his chest once more. Hermione settled into him for a moment, her deep breaths soothing him and dragging his body into a relaxed state with hers.

But all to soon she pulled away. He reached for her, but she gave him a soft smile and shook her head. He watched as she summoned a flannel and met him with the same treatment he’d applied to her. 

Her gentle fingers worked the lathered cloth over every inch of his body, ignoring his body’s reaction to her attention just as he’d done with hers.

She smiled impishly as she gathered the pitcher and poured the water over his head, his blond hair flopping into his eyes and the water running down his face. He pushed the hair from his eyes and snorted the water from his nose. He tried to glare at her, but couldn’t stop his smile at the playful joy on her face. 

The atmosphere changed as she climbed on his lap and began to lather his hair with the sweet scented shampoo. Her wet, warm body was pressed against his intimately and the fire in her eyes burned through him she massaged his scalp. She pulled away all too soon and instead of dumping water on his head as before, motioned for him to lean back, washing away the suds, careful not to get them in his face. He took the pitcher from her hands and supported her neck as she leaned back and he rinsed the conditioner from her hair.

Draco stood, the water dripping off his body, and stepped from the bath. He proffered his hand to Hermione and helped her out as well, his eyes following the trail of the droplets as they careened down her curves.

Picking up a soft terry cloth towel, he began to dry her. She responded in kind. This time as they ran their hands over the other’s body, their touches lingered, fingers caressed, a mutual need began to rise between them. Draco pulled her into his body for a long overdue kiss. Allowing himself to give into the feeling of her in his arms once more, he ran his hands over her sides and bum, down her thighs, and back up to her shoulders. Before they could surrender to the sweet sensations of their reunion, he pulled away. Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him shyly. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips and summoned a pajama set.

He slipped his legs into the trousers and helped her into the shirt, his fingers brushing her steadily blushing skin as he slowly fastened each button. The need to care for her overtaking his carnal desire, he led her back to the tufted bench and settled her on the plush cushion. He retrieved a wide toothed comb and nutritive oil from the cupboard and began to work both through her damp hair. Finally satisfied with his efforts, he used his wand to dry her strands into soft curls that fell over her shoulders and cascaded down her back.

As she stood and turned to him, he was overcome with the vision of her lovely face framed in the chocolate curls. His lips sudden meeting with hers caused her to stumble backward, her legs still weak from her imprisonment, but his steady arms held her firmly to him as his lips and tongue sought hers with desperation. Hermione met his enthusiasm and wrapped her arms securely around his neck as she returned his kiss with equal fervor.

He released her lips and settled his forehead against hers. “God, I’ve missed you.” His eyes were closed with the emotion of the moment, but he felt her nod against him as she drew in a shaky breath.

Twining their hands together he led her into the bedroom. Sprocket, that lovely dutiful elf, had laid out the platter of food and a pitcher of water on the low table before the warm hearth. Draco tossed two pillows from the sofa onto the hearth rug and pulled Hermione down beside him. He placed the food in front of them; they sat shoulder to shoulder and ate silently. Each time Hermione’s cup was drained, Draco filled it with more water, watching the delicate column of her throat as she drank greedily.

The tray of fruit was a riot of color, but Draco was immediately drawn to the blood orange wedges. Picking up a slice he held it up in offering to Hermione. She nodded and opened her lips to accept, as she took the vibrant morsel into her mouth she captured Draco’s finger between her lips, sucking suggestively on the digit. Draco sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head in playful admonition. Hermione smirked back and picked up another wedge, offering it to him. As she pressed the rich fruit to his lips his tongue shot out, caressing her finger in much the same manner. She laughed at him and he felt the tension leave the room as he pulled her close, a smile on his face as they snuggled in front of the fire.

When Draco felt her body becoming heavy with fatigue he helped her to her feet and led her over to the bed. He pulled back the duvet and tucked it around her, then hastened to his side and tucked himself in as close to her as possible. They both hunkered down facing each other and Draco pulled the duvet over their heads, hiding them from the world. 

“I missed you everyday,” he whispered in the dark sanctuary of the covers.

“I felt so foolish for getting captured.”

Draco pulled her to his chest, their legs tangled and her head tucked beneath his chin, “You can’t blame yourself for another’s actions.”

“I know, but when I saw how much you were hurting…” She sniffed and he felt her tears fall onto his bare chest.

“I never gave up. I just didn’t know where to begin.” He rubbed along her back trying to soothe her pain as well as his.

“I’m still not sure what magic she used. It felt… ancient… dark…” she shivered in his hold and he pressed closer. “I tried so hard to break free.”

He shushed her and rocked lightly, her trembling body finally giving over to the terror she’d endured. “You’re free now. I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep, my love. We have the rest of our lives now.”

The hot tears fell for a few more moments, before he felt her body relax fully into his embrace. Draco breathed in the scent of her, and spent his last moment before sleep took him memorizing the feel of her in his arms. Finally, as she nuzzled closer in her sleep, he allowed himself the same freedom.

…

The morning light diffused through the sheer drapes, a gentle nudge into the day. Draco allowed his mind to rise back to consciousness, despite the luscious dream of having Hermione in his arms again. But as he took assessment of reality, he remembered; Hermione was back in his arms. She’d barely moved in the night, still tucked securely to his side, her slender arm draped across his body.

He rolled to the side, enjoying the little grunt of protest she gave in her sleep. Pulling back the sleeve of the pajama top, he began to kiss up the soft skin of her arm, up to her shoulder where he pulled the fabric aside to gain access to her neck.

She gave a soft hum of pleasure and reached with her opposite arm to run her fingers through his hair. “That feels nice,” she mumbled. Draco began to run his hands over every inch of her body that he could reach. 

Soon, the sleepy haze of morning faded and they both frantically grasped at one another, their kisses deep and desperate. Hermione moaned as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and with a heft of desire she pulled him atop her body. “I love you, Draco.”

He smiled down at her flushed face and sparkling eyes and just like magic, their months apart faded and it was only her and only the future before them. “I love you, Hermione.”

…

On the grounds of the Manor, the blood orange tree Hermione brought as a sign began to glimmer with magic; and as the glow faded the branches lay heavy with fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to my dear friend, Mcal for all her help with this fest!
> 
> Just an epilogue left! I value your feedback, please let me know what you think!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shout out to TheMourningMadam, without whom we wouldn't have this amazing fest. Thank you for all you time, effort, and encouragement along the way. And thank you for needing Fairy tale stories in your life!
> 
> Also one more gushing review of my wonderful alpha/beta, Mcal. She was an amazing cheerleader throughout this process and her willingness to lend her eye to not just mine, but so many other people's work as well, is a testament to what a wonderful, caring person she is. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you've done for me!
> 
> So without further ado, let's get on to that Happily Ever After, shall we?

**Chapter 19: Epilogue**

Caroline’s orange grove was much the same as when Draco had sought refuge from his pain here. Today the grove was heady with the sweet scent of orange blossoms and filled with the people he and Hermione held dear. 

Draco watched Luna and Caroline share a secret, their faces alight with mischief, and he could only imagine the wonders they were both privy to.

Potter and Weasley were making stupid faces at Potter's months old son, the baby’s lilting giggle carrying on the soft breeze in the grove. 

He didn’t know how she’s talked him into it, but Draco stood barefoot, the linen of his suit blowing around his ankles and the grass cool under his feet. He watched as people began to take their seats and he took a deep breath as the music began to play.

He should not have been nervous, but Merlin’s pants he was. Theo nudged him and Draco realized he’d been staring at his bare toes for an inordinate amount of time. Theo chuckled and motioned for Draco to look down the aisle.

He gasped. There she was. And she was resplendent.

Her dress flowed out around her in the breeze and her loose curls followed suit. With each step she took, he could see her bare feet peeking out from below her gown. Her father held her close to his side as he ambled up the aisle, but his girl was so impatient sometimes. He saw her pull insistently on her father’s arm, almost dragging him toward the altar.

Soft laughter was heard from the guests and Hermione’s smile grew brighter as she came nearer to Draco.

Impatient himself, he stepped toward them as they closed the distance and extended his hand to his bride. She turned to her father and laid a smacking kiss on his cheek; he chuckled at his daughter and returned the gesture with one a bit less in volume. But before fully handing her off he extended his hand to Draco and pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you for bringing our girl back to us. Love her well.” Draco blinked back the emotion and nodded once in acceptance of this most precious gift.

With Hermione finally by his side, they stepped toward the altar together, clinging fiercely to each other, the orange blossoms woven in her hair and in her bouquet amplifying the sweet perfume of the day.

The ceremony was a beautiful blur. Minerva McGonagall officiated, an impish smirk gracing her usually stern face as they spoke their vows of love and devotion. She waved her wand is beautiful theatrical arches as the ties of matrimony floated around them in bright swaths of gold and bound them body and soul.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Draco had never heard more beautiful words. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other caressed her cheek as he pulled her close to seal their marriage bond.

A gasp was heard throughout the crowd, for as their lips touched, a pure white light burst forth from their connection, blanketing all in attendance--and the orange grove itself--in the warmth of their love and devotion. When they separated and the light waned, the guests gasped once more, for every tree in the grove hung heavy with fruit.

Draco and Hermione looked around in awe of the power of their love, and just as Draco’s eyes scanned over the crowd he caught Caroline’s knowing gaze. She nodded at him and gave him a subtle wink. He chuckled and turned back to Hermione, pulling her close for another kiss. “Shall we, my love.” He pulled away and extended his hand to lead her back up the aisle.

She giggled at him her eyes shining with glee, “Shall we what?”

“Live happily ever after, of course.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the reviews. Thank you so much for reading. It is an honor that you choose to spend time with my words and I hope that as readers you feel appreciated for your contribution to the fandom. Thank you again and I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope your intrigued enough to read more. Kudos and reviews are most welcome. I'd love to hear what you think.


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